Date: Mon, 9 Apr 2001 10:41:31 EDT
From: Aterovis@aol.com
Subject: Chapter 6 of All Lost Things

Hello Dear Readers! I hope you are enjoying the latest installment of the
BH series thus far. I'm not hearing from many of you this time around...are
you out there? I value your feedback and input so let me know what you are
thinking! And don't forget to check out the website. It's updated twice a
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http://bleedinghearts.nav.to

Chapter 6

	My first discernable thought was, "Oh no, not another one." It had
been less than six months since Aidan's murder and only a little over a
year and a half since the harrowing events that eventually led to me
shooting a serial killer. It didn't seem possible that death had once again
struck close to me and it had to be close to me or Asher wouldn't be
calling me.

	"Who?" I asked when I finally found my voice. My dread must have
been evident in my voice because both Judy and Novak turned to look at me.

	"Do you remember the kid I was telling you about, Caleb?"

	"The one whose dad beat him up?"

	"Yeah."

"His dad killed him?"

	"No, Caleb's ok. It's his dad."

	"His dad was killed?" Why was Asher calling to tell me this? I
didn't even know Caleb, let alone his dad. Why did he think I would care?
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Judy motion Novak into his office, and
with a slightly bewildered expression he followed her in and closed the
door behind them.

	"Did you see the news last night or this morning?"

	"No, why?"

	"How could you miss it? It's been all over the news. He was hacked
up with an ax and then burned up with the house."

	"Lovely, thanks for calling and sharing such a wonderful mental
image with me. I couldn't have got through my day without hearing that."

	"Killian, this is serious. The police think Caleb did it."

	"Did he?"

	"No, of course not!"

	"How do you know?"

	"Because he told me and I believe him."

	"Then why do the police think he did it?"

	"You know how he was taken away from his dad a few weeks ago? They
decided not to charge his dad with anything because he told the
investigators that Caleb attacked him and it was self-defense. So instead
of his dad going to jail Caleb got sent to a group home for troubled
kids. He ran away a few days ago, just before the murder, so the police
just assume he did it."

	"Asher, you don't know that he didn't. Maybe it happened just like
his dad said. Maybe Caleb did attack his dad and it was self-defense. Maybe
he did go back and kill him."

	"No, Killian. Listen to me; Caleb is little. I mean, smaller than
Will even. And his dad was big, over 6'. If you'd seen Caleb you would know
he couldn't have done this."

	"You've seen Caleb?" I felt a sudden pang of something, jealousy
maybe?

	"Yes, a couple times I went and saw him at the group home. It was
awful there. The other kids pushed him around because they heard he's
gay. He even got beat up a couple times. No one does anything about it."

	"Why are you telling me all this?"

	"I thought maybe...you work for that detective now, right?"

	"You thought what?"

	"I thought maybe you could...investigate this, find the real
killer."

	"You what?"

	"I thought maybe..."

	"After the last time you almost broke up with me because I wanted
to help your cousin find out who killed his best friend? You who said it
was too dangerous? You who said it was stupid to go after a killer? And now
you want me to help get your new boyfriend off?"

	"He's not my boyfriend. He's just a friend. And he needs
help. Please, Killian."

	"What do you want me to do? I'm a secretary for this guy. I'm not a
real detective."

	"Then ask him to help. I have to do something. If you won't help
then I'll have to do this by myself."

	I sighed. "No, don't do that. I'll help. But don't expect Novak to
help. He gets paid for this. He's not going to just do this on his spare
time."

	"Thanks, Killian. I mean it."

	"Yeah, whatever. It's no big deal. What do you want to do?"

	"It is a big deal, especially to Caleb. I don't know what to do
first. You're better at this than I am."

	"Well, I guess I need to know as much about what happened as
possible. And I'll need to meet Caleb. And probably I'll need to see where
it happened too. Not that I know what I'm looking for, but they always do
that on TV. Like I'm going to find something the police missed."

	"Ask your boss; maybe he'll be able to give you some pointers."

	"Yeah, pointers, sure."

	"Killian, thanks. I mean it."

	"You've already said that."

	"You're mad aren't you?"

	"Asher, I have to get back to work," I said looking at my empty
desk and the paperback book I'd been reading before Judy came in.

	He sighed, "Ok, I'll talk to you later, right?"

	"Yeah. Bye." I hung up and slumped forward onto my desk. What was I
getting myself into? How was I going to catch a killer? I hadn't been so
successful at that particular endeavor the other times I'd tried. How was I
going to bring this up to Novak without looking like a total dork? And most
importantly, why had I been such a jerk to Asher?

	"Why me?" I moaned softly.

	"It's your destiny, love," Judy murmured sympathetically into my
ear. I jumped, sitting up with a jolt and just narrowly missing giving Judy
a crack in the nose with the back of my skull.

"You scared me," I said accusingly.

"Sorry, dear," she said.

"What do you mean it's my destiny?"

	"Surely you've noticed by now."

	"Noticed what?"

	"That you are a seeker."

	"A what?"

	"A seeker. You seek the truth. You weren't satisfied with a lie
when your friend Seth died and you sought the truth despite the very real
dangers that waited on your chosen path."

	"Why do you always talk in riddles," I said testily.

	She smiled. "I'll be seeing you." She waggled her fingers at me and
breezed out the door.

"Your friend is a very unique lady," Novak said from behind me.

"No kidding," I said sourly.

"I couldn't help but overhear part of your conversation on the phone
there. Someone you know died?"

"Not exactly."

"They didn't exactly die?"

"I didn't exactly know them. Did you hear about the guy who got chopped up
and then burned?"

"Yeah, his kid did it, right?"

"So the police are saying. He's saying he didn't do it."

"Wow, now there's a first. What's your involvement?"

"My friend knows the kid. He doesn't think he did it either."

"And?"

"He wants me to find who really killed him."

"Don't you think that's what the police are for?"

	"That's what I told Asher."

	"Good."

	"But he didn't listen. So I kind of agreed to help him."

	"Not good. Look kid, I would have thought you would have learned
your lesson when it comes to messing with psycho killers. The lesson is you
don't mess with psycho killers. They're psycho, that's why they call them
psycho killers. And this kid is a bona fide psycho. Anyone who can chop up
their own father and then set him on fire is certifiably nutso. Besides you
don't have any real experience."

	"But you do."

	"Uh-uh, no way José. You want advice? I'll give it to you for
free. Stay out of this."

	"It's not that simple," I said miserably.

	"Sure it is. Just say no."

	"Thank you, Nancy Reagan. If I don't do this Asher will do it on
his own. I can't let him do that."

	"Why is this so important to Ashley?"

	"Asher," I corrected, "and it's complicated."

	"Try me. I'm a detective, remember? I bet I can follow."

	I shifted uncomfortably. I wasn't sure how he would take the news
that I was gay. From my observations of him during the brief time I'd
worked there he seemed to be a pretty open minded, fair guy. But he was of
a different generation too, a generation that wasn't as comfortable with
homosexuality. I decided to be as vague as possible.

	"Asher and I have a long history. We've been friends since we were
little kids."

	"That still doesn't explain why he's so keen on getting this kid
off."

	I sighed and fumbled around in my mind, looking for the right
words.

	"Let me guess, you and this Asher were romantically involved?"

	I felt my eyes widen in surprise and my heart began to hammer in my
chest.

	"Did you think I wouldn't approve? Hey, it's none of my business;
it's your private life. But for the record, my grandson is gay and I've
done my research. I can't say I totally understand it, but then I don't
have to. I do know I love my grandson and it doesn't make a bit of
difference who he loves."

"I didn't know you had grandkids," I said weakly.

"Just two. My wife and I had one daughter and she has two children. Shane,
named after me," he said with a proud grin, "is the one I was talking
about. He's about your age I'd guess. And then there's Paige, she's 15. The
live in Alexandria, that's in Virginia, near DC."

"Oh."

"Was I right?"

"Yeah. Asher and I dated for over a year and half."

"Dated? As in past tense?"

"Yeah, past tense. We broke up a few weeks ago."

"None of my business but did it have anything to do with this other kid?
The psycho?"

"No, at least I don't think so. It was just...stuff."

"Ok, butt out Shane."

"I didn't mean..."

"Sure you did, and you're right. It's none of my business. I didn't mean to
be a buttinsky. I don't get to see my grandkids very often and you remind
me a bit of Little Shane. I guess I'm just being overly paternal"

"It's ok."

"Tell you what; if you're hell-bent on looking into this mess, against my
advice I might add, I'm not gonna send you into the lions without some
training. I don't have a lot of spare time, as you know my caseload is a
little heavy right now, but when I do get a few minutes I'll help you
out. Start teaching you some tricks of the trade and all that. What do you
say?"

 "What do you get out of it?" I asked cautiously.

He grinned, "As soon as you get some experience under your belt I'll dump
some of this shit work on you."

"You mean I'd actually handle cases?" I said in amazement.

"Don't get too excited. For the most part detective work is one big
yawn. Lots of research, lots of grunt work, lots of sitting around doing
nothing. It's not what you see on TV. But if you work hard and show an
aptitude for it, I'd be more than happy to take you on as an apprentice. In
Maryland, you have to have three years of experience as an investigator
before you can be licensed, so you won't be out on your own right off the
bat; if that's even what you want."

"But I'd be a detective?"

Novak laughed, "Yes, you'd be a real live detective. What courses are you
taking at college this fall?"

"Well, I hadn't decided on a major yet, just general studies."

"Think about taking some criminal justice or journalism courses. A
photography course would be very helpful. Our business is collecting data
and it's important to be able to document that information. If they have
any courses on electronic equipment that might be good too."

"I don't know if they offer all those where I'm going. I'll look into it."

"Good, we'll make a PI out of you before it's all over."

I'm sure I was grinning like an idiot but I didn't care. I knew then that
this was what I wanted more than anything. I wanted to be a detective.

"So, tell me more about this murder case?" Novak continued, "What do you
know about it?"

"Next to nothing."

"Good, there's no time like the present to begin learning research
techniques. You can start by going to the newspaper and seeing what they
have on file. I'll make a couple calls to my PD connections and see what
the ground level buzz is on the case."

"You have police connections?"

"I'd better. I was a cop for longer than you've been alive. And no good
investigator worthy of the name would be caught dead without a couple good
contacts at the station. I'll take you there one day and introduce you
around."

"I may know some of them," I said dryly.

"I keep forgetting you're not exactly green when it comes to the whole
investigation scene."

"I'm far from experienced though."

"Well, the first step is getting background. We need to know as many facts
as we can about what happened. And I mean evidence, not just suspicions and
theories, although they have their place too."

	"What do I do?"

	"Go to the newsroom at the Chesapeake Times and tell them you want
to look at the issues starting when the story first broke. Tell them you're
working for me; they know me there."

	"What am I looking for?"

	"Anything and everything to do with the case; names, dates,
location, the officer in charge of the investigation, what they think
happened, whatever you can get."

	He gave me directions and sent me off after telling me to keep
record of my mileage on the car. I was driving Adam's, as mine was still
incapacitated. I didn't have any trouble getting the newspapers, but as the
story began to unfold bit by tortured bit I found myself more and more
horrified and less and less sure I wanted to be involved.

	The first story, reported several days earlier, was just a brief
account of a house fire in which the firemen said there was at least one
victim. No cause of the fire was reported. By the very next day the
deceased had moved from the status of an accidental victim of a tragic fire
to murder victim. Details were still sketchy at this point. It seemed
investigators were staying pretty tight lipped.

	The full story broke on day three. The police released full details
of the man, Herman Cohen, a night watchman at a run-down hotel on the edge
of town. His earthly remains had been found at the heart of the fire, but
he hadn't died in the fire. It seemed that before the fire had been started
old Herman had been hacked apart. My stomach did somersaults at the very
thought. It was also reported that an accelerant had been used to set the
blaze.

	A clearer picture of Mr. Cohen began to appear in yesterday's
paper. He had a record of minor infractions; DUI's, disorderly conduct and
barroom brawls, but it seemed he didn't limit his brawling to the
barroom. There were records of several investigations into allegations of
child abuse, but nothing ever came of any of them.

	The article ended with the mention that Mr. Cohen's son, Caleb, had
been picked up for questioning regarding the murder and fire.

	With a sigh I closed the tablet I'd been using to take notes, now
with several pages full of my sprawling handwriting. I thanked the staff
that had helped me and drove back to the office.

	"The damn phone has rung itself off the hook!" Novak barked as soon
as I opened the door. He was sitting at my desk.

	"Sorry?" I offered, although I was unsure of what I was apologizing
for.

	"Ah, it's not your fault. It's the weather. It makes everyone think
their spouse must be cheating on them. But if you're gonna start helping me
out on research I'm gonna need to find us another desk jockey."

	We went into Novak's office while I quickly brought him up to date
on what I'd found out at the newspaper.

	He grunted when I had finished my recital. "Good work, kid. I knew
most of that already but you did a nice job. My source at the department
confirmed all that and gave me a bit more that they haven't released to the
newspapers yet. It seems the kid, Caleb, threatened to kill his old man in
front of a couple police officers the last time they were called out there,
by a neighbor I might add. Apparently it was common knowledge that the guy
beat up on his kid on a regular basis. It seems our Mr. Cohen was a real
prize, a championship sleazeball. I imagine it's going to get ugly for the
child protective services before it's over."

	"Why?"

	"The kid should have been out of the house long ago, but nothing
was ever done. Anyway, the kid was taken out of the home and placed into a
group home while yet another investigation took place. The problem is the
kid disappeared from the home on the day of the murder and wasn't seen
again until some uniforms picked him up on the boardwalk a couple days
ago. His story is that from previous experience he fully expected to get
returned to his father and he wasn't having any of it so he took off. Bad
choice as it turns out, especially if he's telling the truth, which the
police don't think he is. Right now he's their favorite suspect. Well, only
suspect."

	"What do you think?"

	"I don't have enough information to think anything at this
point. From what little I do know there isn't any real evidence against the
boy. All they have is a threat that almost anyone would have made in the
same situation and his disappearance, which may have been just as he
said. On the other hand, it doesn't take an overactive imagination to
understand the rage and helplessness the kid must have been feeling.
Cornered people do desperate things and this murder was definitely a crime
of passion."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Simple. You don't chop someone up who you mildly dislike or just want out
of the way. That takes an intense hatred or a psycho, as I mentioned
earlier. Now, I've spent enough time today on a case that I'm not even
getting paid for. I'm going to get back to my paying cases and I suggest
you get back to work as well. We'll look at this again on Monday if I have
time."

I took the dismissal for what it was and returned to my desk. The phone
began to ring before my bottom even hit the chair. The rest of the day was
fairly routine. I thought all the excitement was over for a while. Boy, was
I wrong.  er?wed her