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This drama is rated PG-13 for language, violence, drug use, and some adult themes. Whew! The only thing I left out was sex. It also has major sap and a smidgen of humor.
The time frames in the story are based on the following: a 1962 birthdate for Fraser; graduation from high school in 1979 (he is exceptionally bright); graduation from college in 1983; and one year's training at the Depot.
I've tried to make this story as accurate as possible, but I do know of one error. Northwestern University's medical program is not associated with Cook County Hospital. Other than that, I think I've gotten all my facts correct. Please let me know if I haven't.
These characters aren't mine. I'm just obsessed by them. Besides, it's the little voices that keep making me write these stories -- blame them, not me! Translations for the Italian phrases are found at the end of the story. Comments and criticisms are welcome and encouraged.
Title: Straight Through the Heart
Author: Mrs. Fish
Fandom: Due South
Pairing: none
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: See above
Status: Completed
E-mail address for feedback: mrs_fish@hotmail.com
Summary: Ray must stop a serial killer before he claims his
final victim.
Disclaimer: This story is written for the private entertainment of fans. No infringement of any copyrights held by Alliance Communication or CTV is intended. This story is not published for profit, and the author does not give permission for this story to be reproduced for profit. The author makes no claims on the characters or their portrayal by the creation of this story.
Prologue
Yukon Territory, 1986
Constable Benton Fraser approached the cabin cautiously. According to his source there were two occupants -- James McLeod, 41, and his 15-year old son Tim. The elder McLeod was suspected of manufacturing illegal drugs and selling them through a distribution network that included Canada and the United States.
Fraser took cover in a stand of pine trees. He dropped to one knee and peered through his binoculars. Smoke was coming from the cabin's chimney -- someone was home. He unslung his rifle and clicked off the safety.
"This is the Royal Canadian Mounted Police," Fraser yelled. "Come out with your hands in plain view."
Inside the cabin James McLeod stood stock still, his heart hammering in his chest. He was a slight man, 5'8" and 130 pounds, with light brown hair and sea green eyes. He glanced around the cabin, then went to the window and peered out. They'd found him more quickly than expected. Well, he wasn't going to make it easy. He had no intentions of spending the rest of his life in a Canadian prison. He turned to his son and said, "Tim, I want you to go outside. Do what the police say."
"Dad, no. I'm staying right here with you."
McLeod walked over and placed his hands on Tim's shoulders. "Tim, listen to me. I promised your mother I'd take care of you; so far I have, but if the police start shooting... I love you; I don't want anything to happen to you. Tim, go outside now."
Tim went to the door, opened it a crack, and yelled, "I'm coming out, don't shoot." He turned to his father and said, "I love you, dad," then stepped onto the porch, hands in the air.
Fraser had the boy in his sights. "Keep your hands in the air, son. Just walk towards my voice."
It seemed to take forever for the boy to get to him. "Up against the tree," Fraser said. The boy looked so young and fragile. He was no more than 110 pounds, and at 5'5", downright skinny. Fraser wondered when the boy ate last. He checked for weapons, found none. He turned Tim around to face him. "Is you father inside?"
Tim glared at the mountie defiantly. "No. He went out early this morning. He didn't say where he was going."
"Don't make this more difficult than it has to be. I don't want to hurt your father... Tim, is it? He broke the law; that carries a heavy penalty. You understand that, don't you? I promise nothing will happen to your father while he's in my custody."
"My dad didn't do anything wrong! What don't you just leave us alone?"
"I'm afraid I can't do that." Fraser turned towards the cabin. "McLeod, it's over. Come out with your hands over your head. You had enough sense to send your son out, now you do the same."
Fraser's answer came via a rifle shot. He pulled Tim behind a large tree before taking aim.
Tim grabbed Fraser's arm. "Noooo... please..."
Ben looked into Tim's green eyes, saw the pleading. "Tim, talk to your dad. Tell him to step outside. Tell him you don't want to see him hurt... or killed -- anything to make him come out and drop his weapon."
"All right. Dad... Dad, listen to me. Please, come out. Please. I don't want to see you get hurt. I love you. Please... Come out and drop your gun. He won't hurt you. He promised. Dad... Dad, answer me."
James McLeod fired two more shots in Fraser's direction. Ben took careful aim, trying to judge where McLeod was standing. He fired. The bullet traveled through the window, shattering one of the panes. It struck some test tubes and flasks, spilling their contents onto the wooden table beneath them. Liquid from one of the flasks seeped onto the floor. It ran down the table top and into the open flame of a Bunsen burner. The liquid ignited, quickly spreading flames across the room. Other chemical agents joined in the inferno and... the explosion was deafening. The shock wave knocked Fraser and Tim to the ground.
"DAD..." Tim tried to run to the cabin; the mountie held him back.
"Oh, god. Tim... I'm sorry."
Tim turned on Fraser. "YOU KILLED HIM, you son of a bitch! You'll pay for that." Tim launched a ferocious attack against Fraser and somehow managed to grab the rifle. He swung it, striking Fraser in the temple, knocking him unconscious. Tim raised the rifle, started to pull back the trigger... A gunshot changed his mind.
Tim turned at the sound. It was another Mountie -- an older one. Addressing the supine Fraser, Tim said, "You got lucky today; but you will pay for this. I swear to God you'll pay. If I have to track you to the ends of the earth -- no matter how long it takes, you'll pay for killing my father. Maybe not tomorrow, but someday. Someday..."
Chicago, Illinois
July 1996
Frank Richardson stared out his 25th story office window, admiring the city lights below. He'd just finished closing a multi-million dollar deal with a Japanese conglomerate and was feeling pretty satisfied with himself. At 43, Frank was President and CEO of the largest import/export business in Chicago.
He walked over to the liquor cabinet and removed a decanter. The cut crystal reflected the office lights like twinkling stars. He returned to the window. "To me," he said, and raising the glass downed the brown liquid in one gulp. Frank placed the glass on the window ledge, glanced at his Rolex. It was 9:30; time to go home. He grabbed his coat, turned out the lights, and headed for the parking garage.
Frank's footsteps echoed off the concrete as he walked towards his car. He reached to unlock the door when something grabbed his ankle and yanked him off his feet. The fall knocked the wind out of him; sharp pain lanced his elbow and back.
A dark figure emerged from beneath the car. Frank looked up at his attacker. The glint of light on steel, swift arm movement, then blackness... a red stain spreading across Frank's white shirt. A grin crossed the killer's face. He reached in his pocket and removed a small box. Placing its contents in Frank's right hand, the attacker merged into the shadows and made his escape.
Detective Raymond Vecchio was not happy. First thing to greet him this morning was a flat tire on his beloved Riv; then a rock flew up and cracked the windshield. Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, Lieutenant Welsh calls him in his office and lectures him about his 'many open cases'. But the topper was the new case Welsh assigned him. 'A murder, just great,' Ray thought. The last person he wanted to see at the moment was Constable Benton Fraser.
"Hello Ray," Fraser said cheerfully.
As usual Fraser had that silly grin plastered on his face, and that damned red suit! Ray really hated that red uniform. It was like wearing a big sign that said 'here I am, shoot me'. Sometimes Ray just wanted to rip that jacket off Fraser and tear it to shreds. He smiled at the image that conjured up.
"Uh, Ray," Fraser interrupted. He began squirming in the chair.
"Hiya, Benny." Ray continued reading the case file he was holding.
"Interesting case?" Fraser inquired, his foot tapping on the floor.
Ray put the folder down and looked exasperatingly at Fraser. There were times when Fraser was the most aggravating man in the world -- like now. Then again, he was also the best friend Ray ever had.
"I wouldn't call it 'interesting' Benny. I would call it case number 32 on my list of open cases."
"What type of case is it?" Fraser was twirling his Stetson in his hands.
"A murder. Frank Richardson, age 43. Owned and operated an import/export business. No witnesses, no apparent motive."
"Robbery, perhaps?"
"His wallet was in his back pocket, $200 inside. His Rolex was still on his wrist."
"Hmmm. Any evidence?"
"This was in his right hand." Ray handed Fraser a sealed plastic bag labeled 'EVIDENCE'. Inside was a small Canadian flag. Ray noticed the beads of sweat on Benny's forehead, and the slight flush to his cheeks.
"A Canadian flag? Was Mr. Richardson Canadian?"
"No, he was born and raised right here in Chicago."
"Anything else?"
Ray handed the mountie a second evidence bag containing a 3 x 5 index card. Neatly typed across its face was:
Sing a song of sixpence
a pocket full of rye.
Here's the first of seven
who are about to die.
Six together hold the key
to the seventh's fate.
See if you can find the answer
before it is too late.
"An interesting riddle. Looks like you have a lot of investigating to do."
"Yea, I do." Ray looked closely at his friend again. "Benny, are you feeling all right?"
"Just fine, Ray. I just stopped by to remind you about the birthday party for Diefenbaker tonight -- eight o'clock sharp."
"I can't believe you're having a party for a wolf! And how do you know today is his birthday?"
"Well, actually it's not his birthday. At least I don't think it is. Today is the anniversary of the day Dief jumped into Prince Rupert Sound and saved my life. If it weren't for him, I'd be dead right now. I think that deserves a party, don't you?"
"No, I don't. I think it's stupid. What do I bring a wolf for a present -- a rack of lamb? Milk Duds? Maybe Little Red Riding Hood? Jeez."
Fraser glared at Ray, his bottom lip quivering. He reached out and grabbed the case file from Ray’s hands; tossed it across the room. "Fine, don't come. See if I care. Who needs you anyway, Vecchio?"
"Benny, what's wrong with you?" He reached out to his friend; Fraser slapped his hand away. He was trembling.
Fraser stood and Ray grabbed his arm. He spun around, clutched Ray's lapels and threw him to the ground. "Fuck off, Ray." Fraser stormed out of the squad room.
Ray sat on the floor, his mouth agape, unable to believe what had just happened. He got up, brushed himself off, retrieved his case file. Looking around the precinct he said, "What, you never saw someone have a bad day?" He sat down at his desk and stared at the file, trying to calm his racing heart. He needed to have a long talk with Benny, but he should let Fraser simmer down first. That look in Fraser's eyes -- what was it? Anger? No... it was hatred. Pure hatred, directed at Ray. Yea, he and Fraser definitely needed a long talk.
"Star Pizza, may I take your order please?" The young girl behind the counter took all the information and entered it into the computer. "Your order total will be $14.24, and it should be there between 30 and 40 minutes. Thank you for calling Star."
Ralph McMillin walked in the side door 10 minutes later whistling a Beatles' tune. "Got some more deliveries for me, Jenny?"
"You bet, Ralphie. Here's the list. Now, what have you got for me?" Jenny gave Ralph a devilish grin.
Ralph handed Jenny the money he'd collected from his previous run. It was a usual Friday night -- busy as hell. Not that he minded. Busy meant money to Ralph, and money meant books and college tuition. Ralph had been going to school part-time the last two years. His parents couldn't afford the tuition, and he didn't qualify for any grants, so he had to pay his own way.
He gathered up the pizza orders, put them in the insulated carry bag, and took them out to his car. He looked at the addresses on the delivery list before starting off.
Ralph glanced at his watch -- 11:37. One more delivery and he was through for the night. He turned onto Division and began looking for 1276. After several blocks he found it.
He parked the car, got the pizza, and went into the building. Ralph climbed the litter-strewn stairs to the second floor and knocked on apartment 2D. An elderly man answered. "Star Pizza," Ralph said.
"Come in," the old man said in a shaky voice. "I'll get your money."
Ralph walked in and glanced around the shabbily furnished apartment. Floral print curtains hung over barred windows. Ralph wrinkled his nose as the smell of stale cigarette smoke and urine assailed his nostrils.
"Please close the door. I don't want my cat to run out."
Ralph closed the door behind him hesitantly.
The old man returned to the living room. "Here you go young man." He handed Ralph $20. "You keep the change."
"Why thank you, sir. I hope you enjoy the pizza. Good night."
Ralph turned and reached for the door knob. He was grabbed from behind. Sharp pain ran through his back; a strangled cry was cut off by a gloved hand over his mouth. The attacker spun Ralph around; plunged something into his chest. Ralph twisted and fell forward. The last thing he saw was the old man smiling down at him, a bloodied knife in his hand.
"Vecchio, we've got another one," Lieutenant Welsh said as he dropped a manila folder on Ray's desk.
"Another what, Lieutenant?"
"Body. A Canadian flag in his hand."
Ray opened the folder. "A pizza delivery boy? Only 20. Oh, god."
"Vecchio, this guy's already told us he's going to kill seven people. I'd like to nail him before he does."
"So would I, sir. I'll start working on this second case right away. Comparing it to the first one; trying to find a common link."
"You do that, Detective. Use every resource at your disposal, including Constable Fraser, if necessary."
"Yes, sir." Great. Most of the time Welsh couldn't understand why Fraser was even at the police station, or how he had time to help Ray solve cases. Now he wants Fraser involved? Ray took out the Richardson file and placed it above the McMillin one.
'What do a successful businessman and a pizza delivery boy have in common?' Ray thought. "Elaine, I want everything you can find on these two victims -- birth certificates, where they went to school, social organizations, girlfriends. Anything that could provide a common link to why they died."
"It'll take some time, Ray."
"Then I suggest you start right away. I want to stop this nut case before he kills again."
Fraser was depressed, and exhausted -- he hadn't slept the night before. Ray didn't show up for the party. Maybe he should have just told him the real reason he wanted him over instead of making up that story about his wolf. Last night was an anniversary, but not of the day Dief saved his life. It was three years ago yesterday that he and Ray had met for the first time. Fraser could hardly believe he'd been in Chicago that long.
He got out of bed shakily -- Fraser's head was pounding -- and looked around the apartment. The decorations were still up. He hadn't bothered taking them down before going to bed. Ray's present was on the table where he'd left it. Fraser picked it up: 'To Ray, the best friend I've ever had. Ben.' Fraser shook his head. 'Best friend indeed,' he thought. A wave of anger went through him. "How could you be so inconsiderate, Ray? So insensitive?" he yelled. He took the box and threw it against the wall. Taking a deep breath, Fraser went into the bathroom and began getting ready for work.
Elaine Bresbriss dropped a stack of printouts on Ray Vecchio's desk. "Here's everything I could find on your two victims, Ray. The microfiche copies of birth certificates and school records should be here tomorrow."
"Thanks, Elaine. You're the best."
"You better believe it, Vecchio. And, by the way, my birthday's next month; just in case you'd forgotten. I just love Opium perfume." Elaine smiled and walked away.
"I'll make a note of that."
Ray looked at the mound of paper before him. "I'm never going to get through this by myself. Wait, Welsh said to use every resource, even Benny. Of course! Benny will get through this in no time. He'll sort it, categorize it, analyze it, and find out what the victims had in common. I'll just run over to his place and pick him up. Besides, he and I need to talk about yesterday."
Fraser had just finished brushing his teeth when he heard the knock on his front door.
"Hiya Be..." Ray was cut off as the door slammed in his face. Ray knocked again, but got no response. He tried a third time; Fraser continued to ignore him. Ray did the only thing he could: he turned the knob, opened the door, and walked in.
The first things Ray noticed were the party decorations: red, white, and blue balloons hung suspended from the ceiling while tri-color streamers framed a large banner strung across the back wall. "Happy Anniversary Ray? Fraser come out here, we need to talk." When Fraser didn't answer, Ray continued, "If you don't come out of the bathroom right now, I'm coming in and dragging you out."
Fraser came out slowly, refusing to look at Ray. "So Benny, what's with the banner?" Fraser didn't reply. In fact, Fraser didn't even acknowledge Ray's presence. He stepped over to the closet, removed his uniform jacket, Sam Browne, and Stetson, and began dressing.
"Fraser, will you please talk to me?" Still no answer. "Ok, we'll do this the hard way." Ray quickly moved to Fraser, grabbed him by the shoulders, spun him around, and pinned him against the closet door. "Talk to me, dammit! What the hell's wrong with you?"
Fraser pushed Ray away violently -- he was breathing rapidly. "You didn't stop by last night, Ray. Remember the party? The one you said was stupid? It wasn't a party for Dief - it was a party for you! Three years. We've known each other exactly three years. Remember when I walked into holding looking for 'Detective Armani'? Well, that was three years ago yesterday." Fraser was incensed. He went over to the banner and tore it down; began ripping it into pieces. He walked over to the window and picked up the present; threw it at Ray. "Here's your present. I hope you like it. Take it and get the hell out of here."
"Benny, I'm sorry. I didn't realize..."
"No, of course you didn't. Why should you? What do I matter? I'm just the, and I quote you here, 'most aggravating man in the world' to you. Someone you can use to help solve your backload of cases. Tell me Ray, do you and the other Detectives laugh at me when I'm not around? Joke about my uniform? Well, I AM NOT A JOKE! I am a human being with feelings and emotions, and I'm damned tired of being treated like some kind of freak by you! Now get out of my apartment, and don't come back. I don't need friends like you Vecchio. I don't need anyone."
Ray didn't know how to react; didn't know what to say. He'd hurt Fraser. That was something he swore he'd never do again. Ray looked at the box in his hands, then back at Fraser. "Benny," he began, but Fraser cut him off. "GET OUT!" Ray turned around and went through the door, leaving Fraser with his anger and pain.
Alvin Medrano yanked at the dandelion again. He'd been fighting with it for the last ten minutes, and he was losing. Pausing just long enough to mop the perspiration from his forehead, the 67 year-old retiree glared at the flower bed and resumed his battle. His weapon of choice this time was a spade. Alvin drove the metal deep into the soft brown dirt. He repeated this action several times, then began scooping dirt away from the pesky weed. Alvin thrust the spade into the ground just in front of his foe. Using the packed dirt as a fulcrum, Alvin slowly pushed down on the spade's handle and lifted the dandelion from the ground. He grasped his adversary and lifted it triumphantly, likening himself to Perseus after defeating Medusa.
Several glasses of water later, Alvin sat on his back steps and admired his handiwork. He loved working in his flower garden; took pride in it. Alvin didn't mind getting his hands dirty -- he'd been a school janitor for 45 years. He sat on the steps a few more minutes inhaling the floral bouquet, then went inside to shower.
Alvin wasn't the only one enjoying the scene before him. Jade eyes peered through binoculars, their gaze fixed on the old man. "Enjoy your garden while you can, because tonight..." his voice trailed off, an evil grin spreading across his face. He ran his tongue over his lips in anticipation, like a dog awaiting a bone. "Yes, tonight."
Ray walked down the stairs slowly, occasionally glancing back toward Fraser's apartment. That was the second time Fraser had lost control. It certainly wasn't because Ray had missed the party. There was something else bothering his friend, something much deeper. It was almost as if this weren't the real Benny, as if some doppleganger had replaced him, or else Fraser had started taking drugs.
Wait a minute. Fraser was acting like someone on drugs -- calm one minute, irrational the next. Ray had worked vice for six years; had seen a lot of hookers who were junkies. It was never pleasant when one of them got hold of some 'bad stuff' and freaked. One such young lady had almost ripped Ray's arm off while he was trying to cuff her. But how would Fraser get drugs, and why? When Geiger stabbed Benny in the leg, Ray practically had to shove the aspirin in the mountie's mouth for him to take them. "I try to stay away from non-prescription drugs," he had said. "Even it (aspirin) has side effects."
Ray spun around and took the stairs two at a time. If he was wrong, well, he and Fraser would have another fight. If he wasn't...
Alvin went to the pantry and took out a can of chili. He opened it and added the contents to the ground meat browning on the stove, along with some chopped onion. He turned the temperature to 'simmer', covered the pan, and made himself a salad. The TV was blaring from the next room -- the local news -- more violence and killing. Not exactly what Alvin wanted to hear with lunch. He finally turned the damn thing off. Alvin preferred the quiet anyway -- it was more conducive to digestion. After lunch he'd take a little walk, then a short nap before heading over to the senior's center.
Across the street in an abandoned building, another lunch was being eaten -- a cold sandwich and bottled water. A floor plan of Alvin's house was spread across a wooden table. There were penciled notations in several rooms; all exits were marked in red. A gloved hand reached down and traced a path through the house, stopping at the bedroom. A hunting knife pierced the blue print, imbedding itself in the table. "Tonight..."
Fraser was just leaving his apartment when Ray got to the top of the stairs. The mountie froze and just glared at him.
"I thought I told you to leave," he hissed.
"Benny, we need to talk. You're not yourself. Please, take a minute to think."
"There's nothing wrong with me. Now get out of the way before I sic Dief on you." Fraser grinned as he looked down at his wolf.
"Benny, I'm not moving."
"Your choice. Dief, attack!" Fraser pointed in Ray's direction. Diefenbaker trotted over to Ray, sat down, and looked up at him questioningly.
"Even Dief knows you're not thinking clearly, Benny. He's not going to attack me."
"Well, if he won't..." Fraser charged Ray, knocking him to the floor, as Dief scurried out of the way. Ben directed a punch at Ray's face; he connected. Ray grabbed Fraser's hands and tried to push the larger man off, but Fraser twisted out of his grasp. He pinned Ray’s arms to the ground, then leaned close to the other man's face. "I'm going to enjoy kicking your ass, Vecchio." Ray looked into Benny's eyes -- they were glazed; his pupils dilated.
"Sorry I have to do this, Benny." Ray wrapped his legs around Fraser and rolled the two of them over. He freed his right hand and slugged Fraser as hard as he could. The contact with the mountie's jaw sent pain shooting through Ray's hand and arm; he heard the snap of breaking bones. Ray felt Fraser's body relax. His friend was unconscious. Ray extracted himself from Fraser, rolled him over, and managed to cuff him. Not an easy feat with one hand. Dief whined from the corner.
"I didn't have a choice. He'll be all right, big guy. Don't worry." Ray pulled out his cellular phone and called for an ambulance. Five minutes later the two friends were on their way to the hospital.
Fraser came around in the ambulance. He seemed disoriented at first, then he focused on Ray. His face contorted; pure rage emanated from his cerulean eyes.
"Just wait, Vecchio. I'll get you for this. If I get loose, you'll wish you'd never been born!" Fraser screamed at Ray while struggling to free himself from the stretcher. The EMT's had a hard time keeping him down.
"Benny, scream at me all you want. I'm just trying to help you. You'll thank me later. I hope." Ray's hand was really beginning to hurt. His left eye was swollen shut. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, trying to ignore Fraser's tirade.
They managed to get to the emergency room without killing each other. Ray insisted they be treated together. Seven minutes after arriving, a white-coated doctor entered. He was about 5'11" and 160 pounds with a muscular build -- Ray figured he must spend a lot of time working out. He looked to be in his late 30's, with a head of thick, dark brown hair. The most noticeable feature about him, though, was his eyes -- deep pools of emerald -- which seemed to go right through you. Ray shivered involuntarily.
"Detective Vecchio?" the doctor questioned.
"Yea, that's me."
"Dr. Michael Sheldon. You asked for someone who specializes in the treatment of substance abuse?"
"Yes, I did. My friend here isn't behaving rationally. He's normally very quiet and polite -- it's a Canadian thing. I'd like you to take a blood sample and have it analyzed. Look for anything out of the ordinary."
"Does he take any medication on a regular basis?"
"Doc, he doesn't even take aspirin. There shouldn't be anything in his system. If you find something, I want to be the first to know. In the meantime, can you put him someplace where he won't hurt himself?"
"We can place him under observation in the psychiatric ward."
"I hate to do it, but it's for his own good. Here's the key for the handcuffs. I'd like those back when Fraser is released."
"Thank you, Detective. We'll take good care of your friend. Let me examine him and get that blood sample so I can take it to the lab. I'll send someone in to take care of you."
"Thanks. And doc... can you put a rush on it?"
"Sure thing, Detective." Dr. Sheldon examined Fraser as well as he could under the circumstances. He did manage to get a blood sample. Another doctor came in a few minutes later and set Ray's hand. While the cast was drying, two orderlies took Fraser to the psychiatric ward. Two hours after entering the hospital, Ray sat in the waiting room and called Lieutenant Welsh.
"Welsh here."
"Lieutenant, it's Ray."
"Vecchio, where the hell are you? Mr. Mustafi called and said you and Fraser were having a knock-down fight in the hallway."
"I'm at Cook County Hospital. And, yes, we were fighting. Fraser flipped out."
"What?"
"Fraser went nuts. He attacked me. I had to hit him and I broke my hand."
"Where's the Constable now?"
"Under observation in the psychiatric ward."
"You ok?"
"I think so. Could you send a car for me?"
"Sure thing. I'll send Huey."
"Thanks, Lieutenant."
"You want me to notify Inspector Thatcher?"
"Oh god, I forgot about The Dragon Lady. Would you mind, Lieutenant? I'd rather not deal with her right now."
"The Dragon Lady? I don't even wanna know. I'll make the call. You get back here so we can talk."
"Yes, sir." Ray hung up the phone and waited for Detective Huey.
Ray knocked on the Lieutenant's office door.
"Come in, Ray. Have a seat."
Ray sat down wearily. He let out a long sigh.
"How's Fraser?"
"I don't know. I couldn't face him again. The doctor said he'd call when he got the lab results."
"And how are you doing?"
"I'm ok, Lieutenant. Just a bit tired after everything that's happened."
"Well, take the rest of the day off. Go home and get some sleep. You look like hell."
"Thanks. Can I borrow Huey again? My car's still at Fraser's apartment. At least it better be."
Welsh smiled. "Just get out of here before I change my mind."
Ray walked in Fraser's apartment and closed the door. Dief came over to him and nuzzled Ray's hand with his nose.
"Hiya, Dief. Benny's gonna be just fine. You can come stay with me for a few days until he's feeling better, ok?"
Dief wagged his tail enthusiastically and barked his approval. The wolf wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to sample Mama Vecchio's home cooking.
Ray smiled and patted the wolf's head affectionately. He began looking around the apartment, hoping he'd find something out of the ordinary. He gave up after an hour. He took out his cell phone and dialed the precinct.
"Jack, Vecchio. I need a favor. Send the lab boys over to Fraser's apartment and have them dust for prints. I also want them to take samples of all the food in the fridge, the water, and anything else he could have ingested."
"You want them to do what?"
"Look Jack, if Fraser was drugged, chances are it was in something he either ate or drank. And since he never locks his door, it wouldn't be too difficult to gain access to the apartment. So, it's gotta be here somewhere."
"You know Ray, if it were anyone else but Fraser..."
"I know Jack. Thanks."
Ray grabbed Dief's food and bowls and put them in a paper bag. "C'mon, Dief, time to go."
The two orderlies wheeled Fraser to the elevator, then took him to the psychiatric ward on the eighth floor.
"Let me go," Fraser yelled. "You can't keep me here. I'm a Canadian citizen."
The head nurse walked over to the stretcher and laid a hand on Fraser's arm. "Ssssh, everything's going to be fine. We're here to help you."
"There's nothing wrong with me. Ray did this. He... he just wants me isolated so he can come back and kill me. Let me go."
The nurse turned to one of the orderlies. "Dr. Sheldon said to leave him restrained on the stretcher. Just wheel him into number three."
"You're making a mistake. I'm a police officer. You'll be sorry. Just wait until I get loose from..."
The orderlies closed and locked the door, cutting off Fraser's cries. He struggled against the restraints; tried to free himself from Ray's handcuffs -- he only succeeded in scraping the skin from his wrists. Ben's throat was raw from screaming; his head and jaw hurt where Ray hit him. He needed to think. Why was he here? Ray... Ray would pay for this.
Ben began to imagine all the things he was going to do to Ray when he finally got his hands on him. A smile crept across his face. It widened, and Fraser began to chuckle softly, then laugh. His laughter increased until it took on a maniacal quality, then abruptly ceased. Constable Benton Fraser lay perfectly still... and began to count the indentations of the white padded ceiling.
Alvin awoke and got out of bed slowly -- his joints told him he'd worked in the garden too long; his bladder told him he'd better stop dawdling. He closed the bathroom door behind him -- a habit he couldn't break, even though he'd been a widower for ten years. Alvin walked back into the bedroom and reached for the light switch. A gloved hand grabbed his arm and twisted him around. Alvin screamed, but the sound was cut off by something cold across his throat. Stabbing pain in his chest was the last thing Alvin remembered before everything turned black.
"Raimondo, cosa ti successo?" (1) Mrs. Vecchio asked, concern in her voice. Ray had just walked in with Diefenbaker, and she saw his injuries.
"It's a long story, Ma. Can you take this please? Thanks." Ray handed his mother the bag containing Dief's food and bowls. He went over to the kitchen table and slumped into a chair. "What a day."
"Tell me, mia figlio." (2) Mrs. Vecchio sat down next to Ray and put a loving arm around him.
"Fraser's in the hospital -- in the psychiatric ward. I put him there."
"What? What happened, caro?"
"I went over to his apartment today. I needed his help on some cases, and... well, we just needed to talk. When I got there he slammed the door in my face; then he ignored me. Finally, he just went crazy. He started screaming at me, tearing things down, throwing things. He tried to get Dief to attack me. Dief wouldn't, so Fraser did. We had a knock-down, roll-on-the-ground fist fight. I broke my hand when I slugged him. It just wasn't Benny, Ma. He... he scared me, especially in the ambulance. I hope I never see that look in his eyes again. It was pure hate, and it was directed at me." Ray looked down at the table; began brushing invisible crumbs onto the floor.
"Raimondo, Benton is tuo migliore amico. Your best friend, right? You would never do anything to hurt him. I know, and he knows. He'll understand."
"I hope so. Ma, I think... I think someone gave him drugs. That's why he was acting crazy. I sure hope it's drugs, cause if it isn't... Benny's gonna be in the hospital for a very long time."
Ray changed clothes and sat out on the front porch. Dief was asleep under the chair. Benny's present was sitting in Ray's lap -- he hadn't been able to open it. Just thinking about Fraser turned Ray's stomach into knots. He picked up the box and turned it in his hand; shook it lightly. Mrs. Vecchio opened the front door and joined her son.
"Still thinking about Benton?"
"Yea, Ma."
"What's in the box?"
"I don't know. Benny threw it at me. He said it was a present. He invited me to a party last night; said it was for Dief, but it was for me. Benny and I have known each other three years, Ma. Can you believe it's been that long? I can still remember the first time I met him. Boy, was I mad. I thought he'd blown my cover on a case, but it turned out to be an Internal Affairs sting. That was the first of many times he saved my butt. I'd forgotten the date. You'd think I'd remember something like that. I mean, Benny's my best friend, and... and..." Ray covered his face with his hands and began to cry.
Mrs. Vecchio put her arms around Ray. She just held him, not saying a word. After a few minutes he looked up. "Caro, are you ready to tell me what's really wrong? I know you're worried about Benton, but there's something else."
"I don't know. I never realized how much Benny meant to me. It goes beyond friendship. I... I can't put it into words."
"You love him, Raimondo."
"What!? Ma, don't be saying things like that out in the open. People will get the wrong idea."
"It's true isn't it? I don't mean love like lovers. You and Benton aren't lovers, are you?"
"Ma, I'm not like that and neither is Fraser. How can you even think such a thing?"
"Well, you haven't had a date for a long time, Raimondo. And you and Benton do spend a lot of time together."
"Fraser and I are not lovers, Ma. End of discussion."
"Ok. You love Benton, but not as a lover -- like brothers. Love like only truly close friends can have. Friends who have been through life and death together."
Ray paused before answering. "You're right. I never really thought about it that way before, but Fraser is more than a friend. He's become part of our family, hasn't he? A big part of my life anyway. And I guess... I guess I do... Oh god..." Ray began to cry again. He didn't stop for a long time. "I'm sorry, Ma. I guess everything that's happened the last few days has finally gotten to me."
"It's all right, Raimondo. Are you going to open Benton's present?"
"Yea." Ray carefully unwrapped the box. Inside, wrapped in more paper, were several stone carvings -- a polar bear, a wolf, and a raven. There was a note from Benny:
Ray,
There's an Inuit story to go with the carvings. It
has to do with friendship and loyalty.
I'll tell it to you, but only if you really want to
hear it.
Ben
Ray smiled. "That's one Inuit story I'm actually looking forward to, Benny." Ray gave his mother a hug. "Thanks, Ma. I think I'll be ok now. I'm gonna call the hospital and check on Fraser, then go to bed."
"Don't forget him in your prayers."
"I won't. Goodnight."
"Buonanotte. Raimondo, tientelo caro, un uomo cosi non lo trovi piu." (3)
Ray went upstairs and called the hospital. He was relieved to hear Fraser had calmed down and was resting quietly. Ray cleaned up and put on his pajamas. He knelt down next to the bed, crossed himself, and said a few silent prayers -- most of which were for Fraser -- then turned out the light and fell asleep.
When Ray arrived at work the next morning, he was greeted by a stack of files on his desk. Elaine came over to him. "Those are the school records and birth certificates you asked for on your two victims."
"Thanks, Elaine. If it wouldn't be too much trouble, could I get a cup of coffee, please?"
Elaine stared at Ray for a minute, her mouth hanging open. "Did you say please? Maybe Fraser is having an effect on you. A good effect. One cup of coffee coming up, Detective Vecchio."
Ray just grinned as she walked away. Fraser was having an effect on him all right. Ray just wished Fraser was there right now helping him sort through this stack of records. Ray sat down, grabbed the first folder, and started reading. One hour and forty-five minutes later, he still had no clue why these two people were murdered. They had absolutely nothing in common.
"Vecchio," Lieutenant Welsh yelled from his office. "Get over to Ridgeway and Rosemont. We've got another body."
Ray pulled up to the house. It was controlled chaos. The area had been cordoned off by uniformed officers. Ray saw the coroner's wagon in the driveway; an ambulance was parked at the curb. He was sure the forensics team was there, too.
He got out of the Riv and placed his badge on his belt in plain view. Ray walked over to one of the uniforms. "Who called it in?" The officer pointed to an elderly gentleman. "Thanks."
Ray went over to the witness. "Hi, I'm Detective Vecchio. I understand you found the body and called the police."
"Yes, I did. My name is Daniel Jackson. Alvin came down to the senior's
center every day. We'd play checkers. When
he didn't show up, I got worried and came over. He showed me where
he keeps the spare key. I let myself in and found him. Why would anyone
want to kill him? I just don't understand."
"Mr. Jackson, I'm sorry about your friend. I'd like you to come down to the station and make a formal statement. Are you up to it?"
"Sure. I'll do what I can. I just hope you find Alvin's killer."
"We'll do our best, Mr. Jackson. Thank you." Ray turned Mr. Jackson over to a patrolman to be transported back to the station, then entered the house. The forensics team was just finishing. "Where's the body?" Someone pointed towards the rear of the house. Ray made his way to the back bedroom, where the coroner was examining the body. "What have you got, Esther?"
"Hello, Ray. Stab wound to the chest and a slit throat. Guy didn't have a chance."
"Anything concrete I can use?"
"You'll just have to wait until I do the autopsy. Sorry."
"Thanks anyway." A member of the forensics team handed Ray an evidence bag.
"I understand you're collecting Canadian flags, Ray. Here's another one."
"Yea, very funny, Pete." Ray looked at the bag. Three murders now. This one probably didn't have anything in common with the other two either. He needed some real evidence -- a fingerprint, hair, anything to nail this guy. Ray turned around, got back in his car, and drove to the hospital. He needed to see Fraser.
Ray checked in with the eighth floor nurse's station. "I'm Detective Vecchio. Could you tell me how Constable Benton Fraser is doing, please?" Ray flashed the nurse his shield.
"You mean the mountie?" The nurse asked.
"Yea, the mountie."
The nurse went over and pulled Fraser's chart. "Let's see... He had a pretty quiet night. Doesn't look like he slept though. Seemed fairly coherent this morning -- complained of a headache and nausea. Dr. Sheldon removed him from the restraints and treated his injuries."
"What injuries?"
"Minor abrasions from the handcuffs he was wearing. Which reminds me... Here you are Detective." The nurse handed Ray a plastic bag containing his handcuffs and key.
"Thanks. Anything else?"
"No. The chart says continue observation until we hear from you."
"Can I see him?"
"Certainly, but I'll need to call an orderly just in case Constable Fraser becomes violent."
"That's not necessary."
"It may not be necessary, but those are the rules. Sorry, no exceptions for mounties. Just have a seat over there. It shouldn't be too long."
Ray nodded and slid into the hard, plastic seat. A few minutes later an orderly, more resembling a bouncer, came over to him.
"Detective Vecchio?"
"Yea."
"You can see Constable Fraser now. I'll be outside the door if you need me."
"Thanks."
The orderly unlocked the door and Ray entered. Fraser was sitting in a corner. His head was bent; knees pulled up close to his chin. Benny's arms were wrapped around his face.
"Benny..." Ray barely got the word out.
Fraser looked up at the sound of his friend's voice. Ray gasped. The left side of Benny's face was bruised and swollen. There were dark circles under his eyes -- eyes which were normally so alert -- now dull and sunken. The worst part was the expression on Fraser's face. Ray had never seen such sadness.
"Ray," Fraser choked and held out his hand.
Ray ran over and took the proffered hand in his. "Oh god, Benny. Are you ok? Let me look at you." Ray examined Fraser's face and wrists, then took his friend in his arms. "I'm sorry, Benny. So sorry. Please forgive me." Tears streamed down Ray's cheeks.
Ray felt Benny's arms surround him. He felt Fraser's body trembling; heard his sobs. They just sat there holding each other, needing each other, comforting each other. Neither of them said a word, yet both understood.
Ray kissed Fraser's forehead gently. "I love you, Benny. It's gonna be all right. I promise."
Fraser looked up at Ray, a puzzled look on his face. "Did you say you loved me, Ray?" His voice was harsh and raspy.
Ray brushed the tears from Fraser's face. "Yea, I did, Benny. I'm not ashamed to admit it. You're like a brother to me -- closer than my own brother."
"Oh, so you don't mean love like... like you loved Irene or Angie?"
"No Benny, not like that! God, you and my mother."
"What about your mother, Ray?"
"Nothing, Benny. Never mind. Feeling better?"
"Somewhat, but I have a terrible headache. Ray, what happened? How did I get here? I have only vague recollections of the past few days."
"I'm not sure what happened, Fraser, but I think you were drugged. You've been acting really strange. You attacked me, that's how you ended up here. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to put you someplace safe where you wouldn't hurt yourself or anyone else. I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?"
"Ray, of course I forgive you, but there's really nothing to forgive. You were just doing what you thought was best. It's all right." Fraser took Ray's broken hand. "Did I do this?"
"Yea. I always knew you were hard-headed Benny, but I never realized how hard-headed."
"And your eye? It looks painful."
"Benny, don't worry about me. I'm fine." Ray smiled.
Fraser returned his friend's smile. "Can I go home now?"
"I don't know, Benny. Let me check with the doctor. If nothing else, I promise I'll get you out of the Psych Ward, ok?"
"Thank you kindly, Ray."
"I'll be back soon, Fraser." Ray got up and the orderly let him out. He looked through the window and saw Fraser curled up on the floor with his eyes closed, a smile on his face. "Take care, Benny." Ray went to find Dr. Sheldon.
Steve Franklin pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the perspiration from his face. It was only 10:30 in the morning, the temperature wasn't supposed to be ninety degrees. Normally he enjoyed being outdoors, but right now he would rather be working in Alaska in the dead of winter! Oh well, how did that saying go? Something like: 'Through rain and sleet and mmm... big dogs and Chicago summers... nothing will deter us from delivering the mail.' Steve laughed. Yea, it was something like that. He reached into his mail bag and took out the next stack to be delivered before continuing on his route.
Ray had Dr. Sheldon paged. It didn't take long for the physician to arrive.
"Detective Vecchio, I have the results of your friend's blood test. Why don't we go to my office and we can discuss them?"
"No, we can discuss them right here. Doc, what's wrong with him? Was he drugged?"
"I'm afraid so. Some form of amphetamine, probably homemade. There wasn't much in Constable Fraser's system, but based on his behavior yesterday, I'd say this stuff is pretty potent. It wouldn't take much to kill him."
"Oh my god. What happens now? Can you do anything for him?"
"He's here under your orders, Detective. As for a course of treatment, I'll have to run more tests, and examine Constable Fraser to determine the extent of the damage."
"Damage?"
"Detective Vecchio, I don't want to cause you any undue alarm, but depending on the purity of the drug, and the amount ingested, amphetamines have been known to cause damage to the heart, lungs, liver, and brain. Then there are withdrawal symptoms. These can include tiredness, anxiety, irritability, and depression. People can also have a long but restless sleep, often interrupted by nightmares. This is not something that can just be treated with a prescription."
Ray suddenly felt lightheaded. He grabbed Dr. Sheldon's arm.
"Detective Vecchio, are you all right? Here, sit down and put your head between your knees."
"Nurse, get some smelling salts and a glass of water for the Detective."
Dr. Sheldon broke the vial and waved it under Ray's nose. "Ewwww, that's disgusting. Take it away." Ray pushed the offensive item away.
"Feeling better?"
Ray felt a little embarrassed. "Yea, I... I think so. Thanks." He took a sip of water.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you. I just wanted you to realize the possible seriousness of your friend's condition. It's not something to sugar-coat."
"That's all right, doc. I want you to do everything you can for Fraser."
"Don't worry, we have an excellent treatment program here. He's in good hands. Do you have any questions?"
"Can you get him out of that padded cell and into a private room? After talking with him I feel awful about putting him there."
"I'll make the arrangements. There will be some paperwork for you to fill out, and we'll need a relative to sign the admission form."
"Fraser doesn't have any family. I'll get you the number of the Canadian Consulate. Ask for Inspector Thatcher. She'll get you a copy of the form naming me as his next of kin."
"I'll have the nurse bring you the forms to complete."
"Doc... thanks."
"He'll be fine, don't worry."
"Sure." The nurse brought Ray a stack of forms. It was worse than filling out an incident report. She took pity on him, though, when she saw how much trouble he was having trying to write with his left hand. They reached a compromise - - Ray dictated, and she wrote.
"Thanks for all your help, Cindy."
"No problem, Ray. Don't forget to call."
Ray smiled and left the hospital. Whew, it was hot! He glanced at his watch -- lunch time already. Where had the day gone? Well, he'd go back to the precinct and fill out more paperwork. Maybe Esther had finished the autopsy, and they'd get a clue about these killings. Well, he could hope.
"Hey, Vecchio, got something for you." Detective Jack Huey handed Ray an official looking report. "The lab results from the samples taken at Fraser's apartment."
"Thanks, Huey. They find anything?"
"Two sets of prints -- Fraser's and yours -- unless you count the wolf's paw prints. The water tested ok, although the lead content was a little high -- nothing dangerous though."
"What about the food?"
"Did you know that Fraser buys organically grown fruits and vegetables?"
"Not really, but it doesn't surprise me. I've never known anyone who eats so healthy. No wonder Dief wants junk food all the time."
"Everything else tested fine. No traces of drugs or any other toxins. Sorry."
"Damn, I was sure it was in something Benny ate."
"How's Fraser doing anyway?
"The doctor says it was amphetamines. He has to run more tests to see if there's any permanent damage."
"I'm sorry. He's gonna be ok though, right?"
"I hope so, Jack. Thanks for your help on this -- from both of us."
"No problem. Let me know if I can do anything else."
Ray stared at the report in his hands. Homemade drugs -- the doctor had given him a lead and he hadn't even made the connection! Vecchio, when this case is over, you are going to take a well-deserved vacation. Maybe even take up Fraser's offer to go salmon fishing in Canada. "Elaine, can you look up something for me, please?"
"Sure Ray, what do you need now?"
"Actually, it's what Fraser needs. Can you get me a list of people arrested within the last, say five years, for manufacturing methamphetamine or something similar?"
"Sure, that's an easy one. How soon do you need it?"
"Five minutes ago."
"Coming right up." It was five minutes, plus five minutes more, when Elaine handed Ray the printout. "Bad news, Ray."
"Don't tell me that, Elaine. What is it?"
"There are six names here. And every one of them is in prison -- for a very long time."
"Dammit, I thought I had it!" Ray ran a hand though his hair, then laid his head on the desk.
"Ray, are you all right?" Elaine put a hand on his shoulder.
"No, I'm not, Elaine. I'm tired, I'm hungry, I hurt, and I'm worried sick about Fraser. What the hell do I do now? Add to that the fact that a serial killer is out there carving people up and leaving the bodies with Canadian flags. Would you be all right?"
"Probably not. Do you think the two are related?"
"What two are related?"
"What happened to Fraser and the murders... Canadian flags? Fraser is Canadian, after all."
Ray got the strangest look on his face. He suddenly jumped up and gave Elaine a big hug. "Elaine, I was wrong about you. You're not the best, you're better than the best. No one is better than you."
"What are you mumbling about, Vecchio?"
"Canadians -- Canadian drug dealers. Maybe this has to do with a case Benny worked on back in Canada."
"I can access that information from here."
It didn't take very long for Elaine to find the information she needed. "Fraser, Benton, drug related cases -- one -- back in 1986. James McLeod, age 41, suspected of manufacturing illegal drugs. When Fraser went to arrest him, McLeod opened fire. Fraser returned fire and the cabin McLeod was in exploded."
"That's it -- he's dead?"
"Hang on, there's more. McLeod had a son -- Timothy James McLeod, age 15 at the time of his father's death. That would make him 25 now."
"Any info on the son?"
"Fraser's report indicates they struggled after the boy's father was killed. Fraser was knocked unconscious. When he came to, the boy was gone."
"Elaine, I know I've asked a lot of you the last few days, but..."
"I know, I know -- find out anything I can about the son."
"Thank you kindly, Elaine."
Ray kissed Elaine on the right cheek. "That's from me..." Then he kissed her on the left cheek. "...and that's from Fraser. Elaine, you're wonderful, and I really mean that."
Elaine blushed, started to say something, then just turned and went to her computer. Ray knew she'd find anything she could on this Tim McLeod character. He just hoped it would be the break they needed.
"Hello, Mrs. Bartucci. How are you feeling today? Looks like you got another letter from your sister in Cleveland."
"Buongiorno, Steve. I'm fine, and you?" She reached over the porch railing and took her mail.
"Just fine, Mrs. Bartucci. You have a good day, and try to stay cool." Steve walked to the next house and placed their mail in the box. He continued for the rest of his route, occasionally stopping to chat or to accept a cool drink of water. By the time he got back to the Post Office, he looked as if he'd been swimming in Lake Michigan.
Steve checked in with his Supervisor, took a shower, and changed. He finished his paperwork and glanced at the schedule before walking out the door. He was looking forward to a quiet, relaxing evening alone.
Dr. Sheldon entered the padded cell with an orderly. Fraser was curled up asleep. The doctor shook Fraser's shoulder gently. "Constable Fraser... Constable Fraser, wake up." Fraser slowly opened his eyes. "Time to go, Constable. We're moving you to a private room." Fraser stretched and sat up. "How are you feeling?"
"Very tired and weak. My headache has lessened, but hasn't completely dissipated."
"I'll be giving you a complete examination once you're moved. In fact, you'll be undergoing quite a few tests in the next several days. We need to determine if there's been any permanent damage."
"Understood. How long will I be required to stay in the hospital?"
"I don't know yet. Let's get the tests run first, then I can give you a more accurate answer."
"Thank you kindly, doctor."
Dr. Sheldon and the orderly helped Fraser to the door. The orderly then wheeled Fraser to a private room on the tenth floor where Benton showered and changed into a hospital gown. A nurse came in a few minutes later. She took Fraser's temperature, checked his blood pressure, and took a blood sample. Before leaving she asked, "Can I get you anything, Mr. Fraser?"
"Would it be possible to get a cup of tea?"
"I think I can manage that. I'll be back in a few minutes."
"Thank you kindly." Ben lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes. He was so tired. He tried to piece together what had happened to him, but found he couldn't concentrate. All he could think about was sleep. He soon drifted off.