Victor Methos - The White Angel Murder

He twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open. Tied to the bed with plastic cuffs, Melissa was in her bra and panties. Her make-up was running down her face and she was hysterical, fighting against the straps as her wrists bled.

Stanton pushed the door open farther, and then went deaf.

A shotgun blast tore through the wood just above his head. Where his chest should have been had he been standing. He fell to his stomach as another blast went off, his ears ringing and causing nausea.

He crawled along the floor away from the room as another blast tore through the wall, blowing fragments of wood and drywall over the hallway and on top of him. Another blast farther along but above him.

Stanton climbed to his knees and got toward the end of the hall when he heard Melissa scream. He stood and ran for the bedroom. Brady was at the door and fired, the spray mostly hitting the wall behind Stanton as he fell to his stomach and fired up at the figure in front of him.

Stanton squeezed the trigger and felt the impact against his wrist and shoulder. Another shotgun blast caught Stanton and tore chunks out of his midsection and shoulder. Brady was hit once in the throat and the face. His jaw shattered into pieces, revealing his tongue and pink throat, and he stumbled backward. Stanton steadied his hand, and fired.

A single shot went into his cheek just underneath the eye. He fell to his knees as Stanton stood up and fired two rounds into his head, knocking the corpse over onto its back. A handgun was in Brady’s other hand and Stanton walked over and kicked it away. He stood over the body, and fired his last round into the heart.

He ran over to Melissa and tugged on the straps. They weren’t tightened all the way: he had been interrupted. Stanton ripped them off and placed his arms around his wife and kissed her forehead as she wept onto his chest.

“It’s over,” he whispered. “It’s over.”

The glass partition was dirtier than Stanton remembered. There were fingerprints smeared across it; small fingerprints about the size of a child’s hands. Stanton didn’t want to be here. He would have preferred to be on the beach with the ocean foaming around his ankles. But he felt that if he didn’t come questions would always nag at him. And he needed to look him in the eyes and tell him that he had lost.

Sherman was sat down and picked up the phone with a grin on his face.

“So, Johnny boy gets his man. I’m humbled that you came to see me. Heard you spent some more time in the hospital?”

“Were you ever going to turn him in?”

“I don’t know. I enjoyed his work. He was progressing, Jon. Tami wasn’t the first. He came to visit me once. He told them he was my attorney and they didn’t record anything. That’s what you should’ve done.”

“How many were there?”

“His first one was when he was fourteen. Such an early age to begin, isn’t it? I wonder how far he would’ve gotten if you hadn’t murdered him.” Sherman bit a long piece of his thumbnail off and spit it out. “I saw on the news that you retired after this case.”

“I have.”

“Retirement’s an odd thing. Actually decreases your lifespan. I’m dying to know something, Jon: what’d they find in his house? Any trophies?”

“They found Mike’s cash he’d been paying in blackmail. I take it you found out Mike was sleeping with Tami and had him follow them around for photos?”

“Mm, part of that money was mine. Such a shame. What else did they find?”

“His mother. She had her head bashed in with a hammer.”

He chuckled. “A little going away present. He was going to go away, you know. Right after he killed you and tortured that little woman of yours. He would’ve had fun with her; she’s a fighter.”

Stanton leaned in close to the glass. “I came here to tell you that you lost, Noah. I’m still here and you’re still in there. Have fun, I hear their retirement plan is a good one.”

He hung up and left without looking back.

Stanton sat in the hot sand and let the sunshine warm his body. The beach was nearly empty as it was a Wednesday afternoon but there were a few people playing hooky from work that had gotten out their surf and boogie boards and were yelling and laughing in the water.

Melissa was farther down the beach, playing in the surf with the boys, the water foaming at her ankles. She looked beautiful, her hair wet and touching the tops of her shoulders. The smile on her face was genuine and the tan made her appear young.

Stanton looked out over the water and saw a seagull land near shore and dip underneath the water before coming back up and taking flight with something glistening in its mouth. He watched it a long time, effortlessly gliding through the air and landing on a secluded part of beach farther up near the parking lot.

“Helluva life you got.”

Stanton turned as Philip lumbered up to him and sat down on the sand. He still wore his suit coat and loafers and appeared uncomfortable, sweat glistening on his forehead.

“I love the ocean,” Stanton said. “It doesn’t care who you are or what you do. It treats everyone the same. Our bodies have the same percentage of salinity as the ocean. We have a deep link to it.”

Philip shrugged. “So, what’d you want to talk to me about?”

Stanton reached underneath a towel that lay next to him and pulled out a manila envelope. It contained a digital recorder and a CD. He handed it to Philip.

“I know why you left the FBI, Phil. And I know you don’t want to be on loan to the San Diego PD. This,” he said, pointing to the envelope, “is the biggest police corruption case of your career. Make it count.”

“What is it?”

“Listen to it in your car on the way back.”

Philip stood up and wiped the sand off his ass. “Guess you heard Noah tried to hang himself in his cell.”

“No, I hadn’t heard that.”

“He survived. Don’t know what’s worse, killing yourself or wanting to kill yourself and failing. Hey, by the way, the chief asked where you were at the press conference. He thanked you before he noticed you weren’t there. Made him look like a real asshole.”

“Tell him I quit.” He stood up. “I’ll see you later, Phil. Listen to that CD.”

Philip began walking away. “I will.”

“Hey, Phil?”

“Yeah?”

“Where’s Noah now?”

“At the hospital I think.”

“Not the prison infirmary?”

“No, I think he’s too fucked up for that. He’s in a coma.”

“They only assign one guard to escort to the hospital, don’t they?”

“I don’t know. I guess. Look I gotta run, I’ll see ya.”

Stanton watched as he walked back to his car. He waved once as he pulled out of the parking lot and Stanton waved back.

“Daddy, come on there’s a turtle!”

“Coming.”

He turned and watched his children as they ran to him to show him their find. He grinned and held open his arms. For the first time in his life, he couldn’t think of a single other place he would like to be.