Scott Pratt - In good faith

“I doubt it. Once we show up and get the DNA sample, she’s going to think the bomb’s about to drop. She’ll do something.”

Fraley was tired, still haunted by nightmares of the two children on Marbleton Road. He wanted this case to be finished. He wanted to get back to working stolen car rings and chop shops, maybe a nice white-collar embezzling case.

“I hate dealing with people like her,” Fraley said, “because the chances are we won’t be able to get rid of her.”

“What do you mean?” Norcross said.

“I mean she’s probably crazy enough to stay out of prison. They’ll send her to a mental institution, put her back on her meds, keep her five or ten or twenty years, and turn her loose. And as soon as they let her out, she’ll go back off her meds and start killing people again. I swear to God, people like her are the same as cancer. The only way to really get rid of them is to kill them.”

Norris rounded a bend and the white frame house came into view. Sitting outside was Marie’s powder blue Chevy sedan that looked to be at least twenty years old. Fraley had seen the car and run the tag back when he was doing surveillance on Natasha. As Fraley pulled up behind the car, he took a closer look. The paint was faded and cracking and the vinyl top was peeling. The tires looked like they wouldn’t make it around the block.

Fraley led the way up the steps to the front door, flipping off the safety on his pistol as he climbed. When he reached the top, he moved to the right and unholstered the gun. Norcross banged on the door with his fist and stepped to the side while the other two agents moved around to cover the back. A dog started to bark immediately.

“Police! Search warrant!” Norcross yelled.

A long minute passed and Norcross banged on the door again. “Open the door! Search warrant!”

Fraley saw a shadow pass across the window and heard the sound of feet shuffling inside. The door cracked open, and Marie Davis stuck her pale head outside.

“What do y’all want?” she said.

Fraley stepped forward slowly, wary of what-or who-might be behind Marie.

“We have a search warrant that allows us to take a sample of Natasha’s hair for DNA testing. The warrant also allows us to search for a gold necklace.”

“I don’t want y’all in here again,” Marie said.

“Open the door and step back,” Fraley said. “If you don’t, we’ll kick the door in and arrest you for obstruction.”

The door creaked as it opened, and Fraley and Norcross entered the house. It was dark and quiet. All the shades had been drawn and the television was off. It smelled of stale cigarette smoke and mildew. Marie went immediately to the kitchen table and lit a cigarette. She was wearing the same flowered robe that she wore the first time Fraley came to her house.

“Where’s Natasha?” Fraley said.

“Asleep,” Marie said, motioning with her head towards the hallway.

“She won’t be for long with that goddamned dog barking.”

“She probably took something. She could sleep through Armageddon,” Marie said.

“Don’t you have any lights in this place?” Fraley said as he looked around the trailer.

Marie walked across the kitchen into the small den, turned on a lamp beside her recliner, and went back to the kitchen.

“Have you seen an ice pick since the last time we were here?” Fraley said.

Marie shook her head and blew out a long stream of gray smoke.

“How about a necklace? A gold cross on a gold chain.”

Marie stared down at the table in front of her, saying nothing. Fraley moved towards her.

“Lying to a police officer is a felony, Ms. Davis.”

“I didn’t lie to you. I didn’t say nothing.”

“Have you seen a gold cross on a gold chain or not?”

“I ain’t telling you nothing.”

Fraley looked at her. She was obviously in poor health, hiding behind tinted glasses, her skin as pale as a full moon, liver spots covering her bony hands. He imagined her sitting alone in a dark, silent house, her perception clouded by drugs, waiting for Natasha to return, wishing that death would take her. He might have felt sorry for her, but how could he feel sorry for someone who had brought a cancer like Natasha into the world? And now it appeared Marie was protecting her.

Norcross, who had gone to the back to retrieve the other two agents, walked into the kitchen.

“Ms. Davis here says Natasha’s sleeping,” Fraley said. “I’ll go first. Thor, you’re right behind me, Danny behind you. Jimbo, you stay here and keep an eye on Ms. Davis. If she moves, shoot her.”

“What happened to the other dog?” Jimbo said to Marie. “There were two last time I was here.”

Marie shrugged her shoulders, staring down at her cigarette.

Fraley moved cautiously down the darkened hallway, gun raised. The door to Natasha’s room was closed, so he reached out and carefully turned the knob. The door opened silently; the room was as dark as black ink. Fraley stepped soundlessly inside. He could hear steady breathing in the corner. He looked over his shoulder to see Norcross’s frame filling the doorway and slid his hand along the wall to find the light switch. He flipped it on.

Natasha was lying on top of the bedspread on her stomach, sound asleep. A black T-shirt covered her to midthigh. Her arms were beneath the pillow under her head. Fraley turned to Norcross and gave him a hand signal. Norcross took the handcuffs from their pouch on his belt and crept towards the bed. Fraley stepped to the foot, ready to grab Natasha’s ankles as soon as Norcross made his move. Danny provided cover. Fraley holstered his weapon and nodded, and Norcross dropped his knees into the small of Natasha’s back and grabbed both of her forearms.

“Police!” Norcross yelled. “Stay facedown!”

Natasha screamed as Norcross wrenched her arms behind her back and snapped the handcuffs on her wrists. She tried to squirm and kick, but Fraley had a solid hold on her ankles, and the sheer weight and strength of Norcross rendered her helpless.

“Bastards!” Natasha screamed. “Motherfuckers!”

Fraley watched as Norcross lifted her off the bed and dragged her down the hallway. Once he got her to the den, he laid her on her stomach in the middle of the floor and straddled her.

“Don’t move,” Fraley said. “We have a warrant to take a hair sample from you and to search the house.”

“I hate you!” Natasha screamed. She continued to struggle. “I hate fucking cops! I hope your children burn to death!”

“Danny, hold her legs,” Fraley said. “Norcross, turn her head to the side and hold her still.”

Natasha continued to rail as Fraley pulled a small evidence bag and a pair of tweezers out of his jacket pocket.

“Hold still, sweetie pie,” Fraley said. “This won’t hurt a bit.”

Fraley knew that the best DNA sample would come from the roots of Natasha’s hair, so he maneuvered the tweezers close to Natasha’s scalp as she struggled and spit and cursed. He plucked five hairs, put them in the bag, and sealed it. He was just starting to get off of his knees when he noticed the chain around Natasha’s neck. It was gold.

“Hold her right there,” Fraley said. He got up and went back to Natasha’s bedroom, rifled through a couple of drawers until he found a T-shirt, and went back into the den.

“Put this over her head and turn her over,” he said to Norcross. “I don’t want her spitting all over me.”

Norcross did as Fraley said. When he turned Natasha over, Fraley saw that a gold cross was indeed hanging on the chain.

“Look, guys,” Fraley said. “Isn’t that nice? She’s put a personal touch on it. The cross is hanging upside down from the chain. We’re going to take this, Natasha. I’m sure you don’t mind.”