Detective James Eben
Detective James Eben was not really a God fearing man, in fact he couldn’t remember the last time he prayed to this God the babbling pastor rambled on about. At some point in the past James truly believed he was a Christian, but not anymore. His wife still clung to her faith, so he regularly attended Church in support of her. On the surface he appeared to do all the right things. He would move his mouth to the words during worship and pretend to pray. He even opened the Bible when the pastor was preaching, but he felt nothing toward God. Nothing but anger and bitterness. Sure at one time he might have called him Lord and even expressed love and adoration for him, but those feelings were dead and buried alongside their daughter. These thoughts roused up pain he had attempted to master some five years ago. He could feel his pulse beating harder and the tension in his head swelling at his temples. Attempting to quell the unchecked emotions, James bit his bottom lip letting the heavy loss bear down upon him before once again turning it inward.
Consecutive late nights forced out a yawn and drew his mind out of darkness and pain into weary fatigue. Letting out a yawn, he immediately tried with futility to stay it quickly with a raised hand. He glanced at his wife hoping she didn’t see. Though it went unnoticed by most, she rarely missed a thing. Flashing him a raised brow and coy smirk he knew this time was no different. She never held it against him because she loved him deeply, and this compelled her to embrace the truth that long days and sleepless nights were the norm for a homicide detective. ‘My angel’ he thought, ‘how does she manage to love like she does, forgive, and continue to trust in this God who—if the Bible was right is sovereign over all—yet allowed our baby to die?’ James shook the intrusive thoughts and coaxed a smile and a wink as he tenderly closed his hand around hers. The pastor had begun a series some weeks ago on spiritual warfare and though each message was increasingly longer than the last, Eben made an attempt to listen. He had never really put much thought into why people did what they did. Facing a constant barrage of vile evil made it difficult to hold onto this concept of hope his wife and the pastor regularly speak about. Lately he had found that his work bothered him more than it had in the past, and it certainly was starting to take a toll on his mind and heart. The resounding words of the pastor arrested his focus.
“Remember congregation, we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.”
Homicide
Then it happened. Buzz, Buzz! The vibration of his phone shifted his attention to a more pressing need. Glancing first at his smartwatch then to his left, his wife’s steely look weighed heavy upon him as she took a deep breath. He could see the angst building and her countenance became stiff. She loved her husband, but she regularly had to grapple with the dangers of the job. No matter how often he came back to her, the thought of receiving ‘the call’ or ‘knock’ assailed her mind. Every time he walked through the door, she would throw herself around his neck thanking God. James operated on a different kind of faith, a man made faith that just assumed everything would work out. Knowing her apprehensions, he gently brushed a bit of her long brown hair away before caressing her pastel like cheek. She quickly placed a hand over his, closed her eyes, and clung tightly to the moment as long as she could. Slowly pulling his hand back, James reached into his coat pocket to read the text. It was from his partner. Nothing fancy, short and pointed with only two words in all caps and a GPS attachment.
‘HOMICIDE…. NOW…. 725 Peppercorn St.’
Taking a deep steady breath, Eben let it out slowly. Then turning to his wife, he kissed her warm cheek, got up and headed out of the sanctuary.
“Okay Google, call Niko,” he said as he sunk into the drivers seat of his unmarked Police issued vehicle.
“Eben, you on your way?” Ignoring his partner for a brief moment, he finished reading the text from his wife.
“I’ll ride home with the pastor’s wife, my love goes with you.. XOXO (heart emoji).
“James, are you there?” Niko barked.
“Niko, yes sorry, I am here. I am en route. ETA ten minutes.” He quickly replied.
“Hurry up man, this one is bad!” Niko exclaimed before hanging up.
“Okay Google, navigate to 725 Peppercorn St.” After turning up the volume, James dropped the phone back into his coat pocket. ‘Bad? What did he mean bad? Aren’t all homicides bad?’ Speeding out of the church parking lot, he flipped on the sirens to help clear the path. Not long after he leaned into the last turn.
‘Destination on the left… you have arrived.’
James cut the navigation on the infotainment screen of the SUV and pulled along the road across the street from the location. He recognized the building at once. Some health guru had moved into the area about five years ago and amassed a following. It came across as cult like, but it had happened so often there was no real concern. Eventually they purchased a building, incorporated, and started holding regular meetings. Surrounding the building with an approximate ten foot girth was crime scene tape. Two uniforms were standing on either side of the door. Five more uniforms were attending to the group of locals that had already begin to congregate in close proximity. Not far from their location stood the press baying like hungry wolves for the blood. ‘No doubt giving some kind of sensational and inflammatory report,’ he thought. Exiting the car, he made his way through the two lane road and toward the building.
Detective Benjamin Niko
“Here.” Niko said, handing Eben a cup of coffee before blowing warm air into his hands. “Four butters and cream, just how you like it.” The steam rose from the hole in the top. It was a cold winter morning and the smell of winter and coffee filled the air. Most of North Carolina stayed reasonable during winter, but in the mountains of Paneeras cold was common. Niko was tall, slender, and physically fit like James. His dark hair, brown eyes, and commanding frame made interrogations all the more amusing. At six feet four inches, most perps were easily intimidated, and Niko wasted none of this advantage. Occasionally, James would have to shoulder a hand to quell his zealousness. Unmarried, Niko seemed to spend all his time at work, or riding. He cycled regularly and had won a few medals for his accomplishments.
After the passing of their daughter, James and his wife thought a change of scenery would be good for them. Moving to a small town would help them settle down and slow down. Perhaps James would move into a comfy desk job and leave the streets behind. Instead, he seemed to be busier than he had been. Niko had been Eben’s partner for a long time. Niko had actually requested it when he heard the great detective James Eben was moving to the area. Having worked together for so long and gone through so much together they were more like brothers than partners. Like Eben, Niko wanted nothing to do with God. In fact, Niko had some influence on James’ negativity toward faith after that painful day five years ago.
“Thanks Niko. What do we have?” His inquiry was slightly muffled by repeated sips of coffee. “You remember that health guru?”
“I knew this was the place.” Eben cut Niko’s words short.
“Well, it seems he must of had a falling out with someone…” then he paused, stopped just before entering, and turned to Eben. “It’s bad.”
Taking another sip of coffee, Eben let out a chuckle. “How bad could it be. We have seen a lot in our time.” Then he reached for the door, but Niko grabbed his hand just before he was able to grasp the handle.
“Eben,” he said with solemnity. “It is really bad. I mean, so bad I have to wonder if your wife’s assertion for a benevolent God is defensible.”
“So you have been paying attention.” Niko chuckled, “Hardly, you know I don’t buy any that, but you would be wise to prepare yourself.” After pulling his hand back, both men switched on their body cams, their smart glasses, and entered through the door. Upon entry, Eben’s senses were immediately assaulted with a smell so rancid he begin gagging involuntarily. Instinct compelled him to turn and run back outside. Crashing against the railing that made its way the length of the steps, he doubled over and threw up, still clutching tightly to his coffee.
“I bet the press will have a hay day with that,” Niko said while offering a handkerchief.
“Ugh…” Eben wiped his face. “Does that not make you sick?” He said, turning toward his partner.
“Well…” Niko replied sheepishly with a smile plastered on his face, “I already lost it when I got here. I don’t have anything else left in me to come up.” Lifting his brow, and cycling through another deep breath—which was Eben’s way of taking a moment to prepare himself and harden his mind—both men entered back into the foyer. The lobby was trashed. It was the first thing Eben took note of. When a thief breaks in to steal, they shuffle papers, knock stuff over, open drawers. It’s typical with that kind of MO, but this place was intentionally destroyed. Everything that appeared breakable was smashed to pieces on the ground. A couple of chairs were knocked over, one piece of furniture looked as if a knife wielding madman made a run at it, and there were what appeared to be knife marks along various parts of the walls.
“It seems the guilty party was expressing a certain level of hatred that supersedes the amount it takes to end another mans life” Eben said, before continuing to scan the floor from side to side. He allowed his gaze to climb a bit higher with each passing glance to ensure he missed nothing. Niko just stood by silently writing on his digital pad.
“For some reason the thermostat was set to ninety approximately three days ago. The HVAC system is digital and keeps a record. The rigor on the … uh… corpse suggests the deceased was killed twenty-four to forty-eight hours ago.” Niko just eyed Eben. “What are you thinking?”
“Well,” he began before finishing off his coffee and handing it to a crime scene technician to dispose of. “I can’t figure this out,” he said pointing to various areas of the room. “This degree of destruction had to be premeditated, no doubt about that. But why so much?” Then he gestured toward the walls, “and that there, some kind of strange markings?” Various symbols were painted throughout the lobby. One wall depicted what seemed to the detectives to be a massive L shaped letter with a vertical line underneath. It was encased in a diamond or lopsided square, which of the two was difficult to discern. Another wall had the same L but with a diagonal slash through the top portion and seven dots underneath.
“What is that, some kind of paint?” He questioned the validity of his statement before turning toward Niko.
“Actually, I am having that …” but Niko was interrupted before he could finish.
“Sir,” the tech said. “I have the results of the forensics you ordered for the markings on the walls. The substance comes back as primarily blood, but there are some traces of paint.” Niko shot an apprehensive look to Eben, and offering a quick thank you, they returned to processing the scene.
“Blood?” Eben rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “Who does that?” Directing his question to no one in particular.
Stammering, the tech continued, “Si…sir, the blood on the walls does not match the deceased nor any human for that matter. It… is… goat blood.” After the tech left the room, both men shook their head in disbelief.
“I am telling you, this one is not like the others. Look there,” Niko said motioning to a trail of blood on the floor. “It starts there, makes its way around the hall and into the larger room.” Eben turned to follow the liquid red trail, but Niko abruptly grabbed his shoulder.
