Closer Cop

Many of you that have read my previous stories:

Fly Away

,

Following the Signs

, and

With a Feather

have asked for endings with some additional closure. Hopefully,

Closer Cop

will provide what you've asked for. You will undoubtedly have more understanding of this story if you've read those three above-mentioned stories first, but this story can stand alone too. If you read this one first, it could be considered a "spoiler" for those other stories. Just saying.

I got the title of "Closer Cop" when I was working the beat with our local police department. I was the new kid on the block. All of the other officers were old-timers and pretty much set in their ways. They were a great group of guys and they all went out of their way to help me learn the ropes, but they were all far from being "go-getters." I, on the other hand, was the quintessential "go-getter."

I used to take a cold-case folder or two home with me and work on them in my spare time. I was taking a criminology class that was offered by the state college forty miles to our south. I used the new techniques that I was learning to revisit those old cases. As luck would have it, I solved four cold cases during my first six months on the beat. That was the upside.

The downside was the two evenings a week away from Stella while I was in the classroom, but she was a very supportive wife. She knew that what I was learning now would pay off handsomely in the future.

She was a nurse at our local hospital. They were short of nurses so she was able to alter her schedule to maximize our time together. Both of us came from middle-class families. We had our future all figured out. We would buy a house with some acreage so we could do some gardening, have horses, and maybe some other livestock. We would have two or three kids, but that would come after we'd spent a few years together with just the two of us. It was a great plan. It was our dream.

To make a short story shorter, those four cold cases that I solved brought me to the attention of Sheriff Jim Stevenson. I found myself sitting in his office and listening to an amazing offer. He wanted me to work with his investigative group. For all intents and purposes, I would be a detective!

The downside was that I would have to report to his office located at the county seat. Instead of an eleven-mile round trip to work, I would be driving twenty-seven miles. The upside was more money and my own assigned patrol vehicle to take home every night. I was also allowed to drive it to my criminology classes. The clincher was when they said they would pay me for the time I spent in the classroom and cover my tuition. Needless to say, as much as I hated to leave all of my colleagues and friends in the local police force, the sheriff gave me an offer that I couldn't refuse.

The atmosphere at the county seat could only be called competitive. There was no doubt that my quick rise was resented by at least a few of my co-workers. I tried to keep a low profile while working more diligently than ever. Most of my time was spent on cold-case assignments. Like before, I continued to work on those cases at home. I usually read everything that our office had available on a particular case, committing as much as possible to memory. Then, when I had some time or when a thought came to me, I entered it into my evidence app. At the end of the day, I transferred my thoughts to a USB drive to take with me to work the next day. It was that routine that led to something that changed everything! It started on a Wednesday morning when I couldn't find my USB stick. I looked everywhere! No stick.

I was sure that I had left it on my desk, but it wasn't there. Then it dawned on me! It had probably been inadvertently nudged off of the desk and fallen into the wastebasket. The wastebasket was empty. Then I remembered that Stella had taken a white plastic bag of trash out to the bin last night. She had left for work already so it fell to me to look through the trash to find my missing stick.

I expected the white bag to stand out like a sore thumb among all of the black trash bags, but no such luck. I started the painstaking task of going through the bags. Finally, three rows deep, I found the white bag inside of a black bag. What the hell? Why did she put that bag inside of another bag? Why not just throw it on top?

The good news is, my stick was there. The bad news is, it was not by itself. That sunny Wednesday morning-- that hump day--was about to become one of the darkest days of my life. After I put the USB stick in my pocket, I noticed a clear sandwich bag near the bottom. Inside the sandwich bag, I found six small bags, better known as condoms. All of them were full of an easily-identifiable white substance.

It doesn't take a detective to realize that this was an important clue. It doesn't take a lab to identify the white substance. It doesn't take a trusting husband long to know that his marriage and life as he knows it is probably over.

I opened my patrol car and put the sack of condoms in my evidence cooler. Then I began to ponder my next move. My first inclination was an immediate confrontation, but Stella could just deny everything. She could say that the neighbor boys probably used our trash bin for nefarious purposes.

I could counter that with the observation that the white bag contained other items that I had discarded from my desk. What are the chances that those boys would take the time to dig three levels deep in the bin, open one of our trash bags, and put their rubbish in a white sack that contained waste from my desk?

Of course, she could fall back on a statement like, "Anything is possible when boys are hiding incriminating sexual evidence."

I quickly determined that I would need to employ a more fool-proof method. I would need to use professional surveillance equipment strategically placed in the house. That would allow me to determine if it was a one-off or an ongoing affair. I wasn't even sure that "affair" was the right word. With six full condoms, would "orgy" be a more appropriate word?

Installing the appropriate equipment would allow me to identify not only the right word but probably the participants too. I could have the condom contents DNA-analyzed if that became necessary. I was making a list of what I would need to do when my phone rang.

"Deputy Jake Robbins," I answered.

It was the boss, Sheriff Stevenson, calling to tell me about a possible breakthrough in one of our cold cases. He asked if I knew where Luke Young's ranch was located. When I replied that I'd been there several times, he told me that Luke had discovered Alice Reynolds's car on his property. Sheriff Stevenson asked me to get over there ASAP. He stated that he was putting me in charge of that now-reopened cold case that had suddenly turned hot! This would be the first time in my two years as a deputy that I would be the lead investigator on a case. I was honored that the boss had chosen me to handle such a challenging and well-known case.

As I headed for the ranch, my thoughts about a half-dozen condoms were replaced by memories of the day that Luke called me out of the blue. He wanted to discuss Holly Sherman's murder, which was another one of our cold cases. I scheduled a meeting with him later that day. It turned out to be very fortuitous.

He stunned me with his opening sentence. He wanted to report that he had participated in a foursome sex act with Holly Sherman at her house. While I knew that such an activity could lead to murder, I had to tread lightly. Sexual activity, no matter how depraved, is usually not a crime. I asked him if it was consensual. He said she was a willing participant at first, but less so as the activities progressed. Saying that; he assured me that she had never asked them to stop or even pause. She had just lost her enthusiasm as time passed.

He went on to say that it had bothered him so much that he finally confessed everything to his brother, who was the minister of a local church. His brother had advised him to seek me out and tell me what happened.

I told him that I appreciated the information, but none of what he confessed to was illegal. Not as long as she was not being forced to have sex against her will. That's when he told me that the other two participants were Steffen Barber and Bill Raymore. Both he and Bill had been there at Steffen's invitation. I thought it was a little kinky that Steffen, who had been identified as Holly's boyfriend, would initiate such an act, but it was not a crime.

I had to get to the meat of the situation, so I asked Luke if he had been involved in poisoning Holly. He said that he would never do such a thing. I asked him if he suspected that the other participants could have been involved in her murder. He stated that he had no reason to think so. At that point, I figured the call was just an attempt by Luke to clear his conscience and wouldn't have much impact on our cold case. So, it had been an interesting conversation but it hadn't moved the needle in Holly's murder. Wrong!

I had interrogated Steffen, Holly's boyfriend, early in the case and ruled him out. I was also satisfied that, while Luke was bent out of shape about what happened, he didn't rise to the level of a suspect. All that remained for me to check out was the other participant, Bill Raymore. I made a note-to-self to run checks on him tomorrow.

The next day I ran exhaustive checks on Mr. Raymore. Outside of some evidence that he was not a nice guy, there was nothing to implicate him in the murder. It was when I started checking out his wife, Ellie Raymore, that I struck gold!

Before they moved here a year ago, she had worked for a chemical company on the gulf coast. After some phone conversations with managers and supervisors at the plant where she had worked, I had my suspect. She had access to the very chemical that the medical examiner had identified as being the cause of Holly's death. The managers at the chemical plant said that while they kept a close watch on products that could be used recreationally, they were not so concerned about poisonous by-products like the one I was asking about.

Just three days after my visit with Luke, I was part of a team sent out to confront Ellie Raymore. We came prepared with a warrant to search her house. She met us at the door. When I showed my badge and told her that we were charging her in the murder of Holly Sherman, she surprised us all. "I was wondering when you yahoos would figure this out," she smirked. "Just let me say this; that self-righteous whore deserved what she got." Just like that, thanks to my visit with Luke Young, we had thawed an ice-cold case. I got most of the credit, but it actually belonged to Luke.

Now, here I am preparing to talk to Luke again. It's about another cold case. This one is probably the most talked-about case we've ever had. It's all about an older woman named Alice Reynolds and a young man named Jerry Gibson disappearing on the same evening. She had been his teacher in a special junior college program designed to teach mentally challenged young men how to handle the duties of "the man of the house." Her teaching was performed at the residence that she shared with her husband, Allen.

There was much speculation at the time about a student and his teacher disappearing on the same day. Had they become romantically involved? Did they go somewhere to be together or was it just a super-strange coincidence? Those questions had never been answered and the case soon went cold. Today could mark a new start in solving that mystery. Wouldn't it be something if Luke could contribute to this case as he did in Holly Sherman's case? If so, we should consider putting him on the payroll.

As I drove up to Luke's house, the CSI vehicles came in from the other direction. Luke came out to meet us. As we shook hands and handled introductions, the CSI team leader asked if the car was readily accessible. Luke told them it was hidden. Hidden in plain sight!

He reminded us that the multi-vehicle dealership that he ran now had been in the family for years. It had been a Ford agency until the recent expansion. During all those years, they had traded for many vehicles. They sold some on their used car lot and sent some to the auction, but many of them ended up on a car graveyard in the middle of their ranch.

Quite often collectors would come out to view those vehicles. It was one of those collectors that had remarked about the nearly-new car that was among all of those classic vehicles. He had asked how much they were asking for that two-year-old white Buick. Luke drove out to take a look. The doors were locked but the license plates were still in place. He made a quick call, asked a quick question, and was astonished at the answer. He made another call. He called the sheriff.

After hearing Luke's story, we followed him to the car. Ten minutes after we reached the car the CSI team had the doors and trunk open. They found a couple of empty drink cups in the holders, but the car seemed to be light on clues. There was no blood or other significant findings. Most importantly, there weren't any bodies!

I asked Luke to think about any place on the ranch where bodies could be hidden. He searched his memory for a couple of minutes. Then his eyes lit up as he remembered that there was an old hand-dug well nearby.

The CSI unit soon determined that the water in the well was at least twelve feet deep. They suspended another machine above the well. The operator was studying the picture on a scope. After a few minutes of analysis, he turned to us and said, "We have two bodies down there."

I immediately called the boss with the news. He congratulated us and said he would make some calls. He needed to put a team together to retrieve the bodies. Hopefully, they could be in place by tomorrow. He told me to report to the ranch tomorrow at sunrise. The team would report to me as soon as they arrived. I thanked him for his confidence in me.

Crime scene tape was placed around both the well and the car before we left for home. I was anticipating a very full day tomorrow, but my thoughts soon returned to six condoms. Since my duties were done for the day, I had two extra hours to do some shopping. I stopped by the electronics store on my way home. I left with four audio/video-equipped smoke detectors. They looked exactly like the ones they would replace in our house. I also had a base station to record the evidence from those devices.

I arrived at the house over an hour before Stella would be home. I used the time wisely. All of the devices were in place when she arrived. I would soon know the answer to the six-condom mystery. It could be nothing, or it could be the end of my marriage.

When Stella got home, I covered any condom-related anxiety I was feeling by talking about being assigned as the lead detective in the now-reopened case where a teacher and her student had disappeared simultaneously. Stella seemed very interested in all that happened at the ranch. I watched her closely all evening but saw nothing out of the ordinary in her behavior. She was relaxed, happy, and loving. She showed no signs of guilt or remorse. I began to wonder if the condoms did actually come from the neighbor boys.

I spent several hours that evening refreshing my memory about the Alice and Jerry case. I always suspected that the two of them had a sexual relationship. As I was reading the case files, I discovered a memo from the school administrator that mentioned Jerry asking Alice to help him with issues related to dating girls. I knew right then that he had maneuvered her into dangerous territory.

After digesting every piece of evidence in the file, I concluded that Alice had finally figured out that she was in way too deep with Jerry. He had turned a teacher/student relationship into a sexual relationship. It had become a danger to her whole family if it should ever be exposed to the light of day. She knew what she had to do and she did it.

When bedtime arrived, I was determined to make love to Stella. I needed to see how she would respond to me. It turned out that she was not into it very much. Her mind seemed to be somewhere else. I'm sure that she faked her orgasm. She made the right sounds and said the right words, but her body spoke differently. That little clamping down on me that I usually felt when she orgasmed was missing. Also, her breathing was not following her normal pattern. Her actions confirmed my suspicions. Now it was the hidden devices that would tell the tale.

Now that I think about it, her ardor has been decreasing for a month or so. I hadn't given it much thought until now. Those condoms had put me on high alert! I decided to make this night a twofer. We didn't go twice very often anymore, but I wanted to see if she would rebuff me. She didn't, but her participation in that second event was even more lackadaisical than her first performance!

We usually enjoyed at least fifteen minutes of afterglow, but this time after I shot my wad, I just pulled out, jumped out of bed, and headed for the bathroom. When I returned to bed, I turned my back to her. She reached for me, but I didn't respond.

I spent Thursday watching the assembled team recover the bodies, which they took to the lab to complete the identification process. I talked to the CSI team at length and they were convinced that it was a murder/suicide situation. We agreed on that and every other aspect of the case. It was finally over.

I was about an hour late getting home that evening since I had several reports to file and needed to participate in a preliminary press briefing. The boss gave me Friday off as a reward for solving the case.

When I got home that night, I explained the day's activities to Stella, but I didn't tell her about my reward of a day off. I intended to take it tomorrow and use it to work on solving the case that seemed to be happening in my own house.

Come bedtime, I attempted to pick up where we left off the previous night. To my surprise, Stella begged off saying she was "not in the mood." That sent wheels spinning in my head. Was she out of the mood because she was already sated from another orgy earlier today? Would I find another sack of condoms?

The next morning after Stella left, I made another foray through the trash bin. This time I struck out. Not a single condom.

My next stop was the camera base station to watch what had happened in our house yesterday, which was Thursday. There was a short recording made by the device in the living room and a longer one made by the similar device in the guest bedroom. I sat down and watched my marriage crumble.

The video began by showing the living room. The first thing of interest was when Stella answered the door a little after 1 pm. She let a couple of guys in, kissing them as they entered. I was able to identify the guys immediately. They had visited us during the summer. She had introduced them to me and we had spent some time in casual conversation. Later, she had taken them out for a swim in our pool. I had suffered some cuts on my arms and chest during an arrest that week and some of the wounds were still bandaged. I didn't want to get the bandages wet or risk getting an infection, so I stayed inside and watched some sports on the tube. I didn't give them a second thought and I certainly didn't suspect any hanky-panky. After all, those two guys were her cousins!

Back to the living room; it was only a few minutes into their conversation when I heard them reminiscing about their swim in our pool, the very thing that I had been remembering. Stella recalled that they had carefully hidden-out in an area of the pool that wasn't visible from the windows. One of her cousins remembered that she had given them blow jobs and allowed both of them bareback access to her pussy. Then she recalled having to obtain a morning-after pill at work to make sure she didn't get pregnant. As I said, I didn't suspect anything back when it happened. I still have some trouble wrapping my mind around that episode. Did this just start in our pool or had they done this before? Were they getting together when Stella and I were dating? Something just doesn't compute. Not that it matters, they're three consenting adults, one of which just happened to be my wife!