November 11th, 12:23 AM
He moved quietly along the side of the run-down home, carefully pouring the liquid along the wall from the container he carried until it was empty. He had already emptied the first can along the front of the house, and partway around the opposite side, and he moved to deposit them both near the back fence, so he could grab them easily when he left.
It seemed as though luck was with him, as Ignacio Suarez lived on a rather isolated section of the street, with abandoned homes on either side of his, and a vacant lot across the way. This made it quite easy to move around unnoticed while pouring the gasoline, and he still saw no sign of anyone nearby as he crept to the back door, removing a long, thin piece of metal from his pocket. After just a couple of minutes of work on the doorjamb, he had made his way past the cheap lock and entered the shabby kitchen, which smelled strongly of fried foods and spices.
Exchanging the lockpicking tool for his knife, he moved stealthily into the living room, pleased to find his target sprawled out, snoring, in a recliner, wearing only a pair of threadbare pajama pants printed with tiny LA Rams logos. He stepped forward, planning to slit the sleeping man's throat as he slept, but a floorboard creaked loudly under his foot, and Suarez bolted to an upright position, his eyes open and alert.
The intruder immediately went on the offensive, hurling himself at Ignacio Suarez before he was able to rise from the chair, slashing at him with the knife. Suarez fought ferociously, but he was a small, slight man, and was quickly overpowered, suffering numerous stab wounds before the attacker let him drop back into his seat. Then, confident that his victim was dying, or at least too badly injured to escape, he turned back toward the kitchen. But before he even took a step, a sound from the back of the house caught his attention.
Moving quickly down the short hallway, he stopped in front of a closed door at the end of the hall, and once again heard a slight scraping sound. Bringing his foot up, he kicked the door open, and was greeted by the sight of the backside of a woman in a pale-blue nightgown, who was halfway out of the small bathroom window. He stepped into the room and grabbed the back of the garment, dragging her back inside. She let out a shriek as he pulled her to his chest, holding the bloody knife in front of her.
"So sorry, my dear, but I'm afraid I can't let you do that," he whispered, gently stroking her cheek with the blade before swiftly driving it to the hilt in her right ear, and yanking it out just as quickly. Then, after wiping the blade on her gown, he walked back through the house and out the back door, removing his bloodstained coat as he moved.
Pulling a lighter from his pocket, he flicked the wheel until the flame appeared, and held it to the coat. Once he was sure that it wouldn't go out, he tossed it against the wall, and the gasoline ignited with a "whoosh", moving rapidly around the dilapidated building and greedily consuming the old, dry wood. He then retrieved the gas cans and hurried down the alley to his car, which was parked behind one of the vacant houses. Firing up the engine, he moved as quickly as the vehicle would allow toward the street, directly into the path of a blue sports car, which narrowly avoided hitting him.
Pushing the old car to it's limit, he continued on until he was several blocks away, and then began weaving his way down the side streets, back to his storage locker. Things hadn't gone quite as planned, he reflected, but reasoned that the fire should eliminate evidence of the knife wounds, making it impossible to connect the deaths to his mission. There might be suspicions, of course, but without any witnesses, they would be impossible to prove.
As he pulled up to the rented unit, he chuckled softly to himself, thinking "One down, two to go. And then I can get back to my real work."
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12:38 AM
"Thanks again for the ride. If you drive to the next block, chica, there is an empty lot where you can turn around and go back the way you came. I sincerely do not recommend going further than that, too much gang shit goin' down that way," the young Hispanic man called through the window of Briar's Charger.
"Not a prob, Reuben. I know you're off tomorrow, but give me a call if your bike isn't fixed before your next shift, and I'll pick you up. You might get there an hour or so early, but it beats walking."
He waved an acknowledgement of her words as he moved toward the house, and Briar rolled up the window, locked the doors, and pulled away from the curb,in the direction the young man had indicated. He worked on one of the food trucks that supplied meals for her current shoot, and when she had found him in the parking lot, unable to start his motorcycle, she had called her friend Wiley to take it to his garage, and offered the teenager a lift.
As she approached the lot that Reuben had suggested that she turn around in, a small car shot out from behind some shrubs, forcing her to stamp on the brakes to keep from slamming into the passenger-side door. "Watch it, asshat!" she shouted, as the other driver kept going, not even acknowledging her presence. "Where the hell did you get your licence, a bubble-gum dispenser?"
She started to move again, but a flash of color in her peripheral vision made her pause. Turning her head, she observed a small girl, maybe seven or eight years old, wearing a pair of Little Mermaid pajamas, and carrying a much smaller child in her arms. The girl was moving quickly down the sidewalk, her head turning from side to side, with a frightened expression on her face.
Pulling to the curb, Briar stepped out of the car, calling out, "What are you doing out so late, sweetie? Do you need some help?"
The child began stumbling toward her, and Briar moved forward, managing to catch the baby as the girl lost her grip. She began speaking rapidly in Spanish, tears streaming down her face, as Briar put a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. She had picked up a few words of Spanish on location shoots, but the only word the girl spoke that she understood was abuela, or grandmother.
A sudden flash of light caused her head to snap up, and she saw a house directly across from the vacant lot erupting into flames, which caused the girl to wail inconsolably and turn, as if she were thinking about running toward the flames. Briar tightened her grip on the child and led her to the car, placing the baby back into her arms and opening the passenger door, bundling them into the seat. She then whipped out her phone and dialed 911.
"911, please state the nature of your emergency."
"Yeah, I just found two little kids out wandering down the street, and there's a house on fire. The older kid is speaking Spanish, and mine sucks, so the only thing I understood was something about her grandma."
"What is the address, ma'am?"
After explaining that she didn't know the actual address of the fire, she provided Reuben's address, and the dispatcher used that to dispatch the emergency vehicles. She climbed back into the car and locked the doors, talking to the dispatcher and stroking the little girl's hair in a futile attempt to calm her. Within just a couple of minutes, a patrol car roared up, parking behind Briar's car, followed just seconds later by a fire truck, which shot past them, stopping directly in front of the blazing house, and then two more police vehicles.
A uniformed officer tapped on the window, then stepped back to allow Briar to open the door. As she stepped out, the patrolman said, "Hello, miss, I'm Officer Belmont," He then indicated a second officer, approaching the other side of the car, and continued, saying, "That's my partner, Officer Ruiz. We were told by dispatch that you needed someone who understands Spanish, is that correct?"
"Yes, the poor little kid has been trying to tell me something, and I have absolutely no idea what it is. The only thing I understood was something about her grandma, and I don't have the slightest clue how to help them!"
Officer Ruiz opened the passenger door and knelt down, speaking softly to the girl. She responded with a torrent of words, which caused Ruiz to frown and reach for her radio. "Yeah, Mobley, tell the fire crew that there are probably two people still in the house. And have someone get a detective out here, I've got a witness here who confirms foul play."
Belmont turned from Briar to look at his partner, eyebrows raised. "What the hell did she say, Angie?"
"The girl's name is Esperanza Maldonado, and the baby is her brother, Javier. They were staying overnight with their grandmother, who lives in the house with her brother, their great-uncle. She says that they heard noises like somebody fighting in the living room, and that their grandma put her out the bathroom window, handed her the baby, and told her to run away ,and she'd catch up to them. But she never did, so we have to assume that they're still in the house."
Officer Belmont returned his attention to Briar, after a brief glance at his notebook. "All right then , Miss...Malveaux, other than the kids out at such a late hour, did you happen to see or hear anything out of the ordinary?"
"Just the idiot driver who almost got T-boned when he pulled out in front of me from behind that bush back there."
"Did you happen to notice what kind of car it was, or the color, by any chance?" Ruiz inquired.
"Yeah, weirdly enough, because there's a car almost just like it in my ex-boyfriend's favorite movie, and I saw it more times than I care to think about. It was an old GMC Pacer, kind of a maroon color, but the passenger door must have been replaced at some point, because it wasn't the same color."
Briar became uneasy when she noted the look that passed between the two officers, and the feeling escalated when Belmont literally sprinted back to the patrol car, grabbed the radio, and recited a series of numbers, which she assumed were some sort of police code, along with something about an APB. He then recited the address of the inferno, and apparently didn't like the reply he received, she thought, judging by the grimace that passed over his face.
And, with his next words, the unease morphed into outright fear. "You need to call the lieutenant, and get him out here. Seems like his boy is at it again, looks like we may have lost another witness."