Echo

Mirrors

​​

It’s one minute into the morning shift, and a tide of cops rolls into the precinct. I’ve been at my desk for an hour already, going over victimology in my current case, when the phone rings. Before picking up, I go to close the door to my office.

   “French, speaking.”

   “Jack, it’s me, Arjun. I’m sorry to bother. You know I wouldn’t call…”

   “Don’t worry about it. What is it? What do you have?”

   “White female, twenty-three, found in her apartment downtown, multiple stab wounds, no DNA, no prints at the scene. Jack, it’s the fourth vic, in two months. It’s getting to me. I’m on edge all the time. Even Maggie’s noticed. I’m just—”

   “Send me the address. I’ll meet you there in an hour.”

   “Thank you, man. I owe you.”

   “No you don’t.” I hang up. Arjun Singh never calls. He knows my secret, being family and all. He married my sister, Maggie, some twenty years ago. The voices started soon after, and Arjun was there for me, like a brother. When they got so loud I thought about checking myself into the nuthouse, he was there. His calm, reasoned presence got me through it all. The least I can do is to put my secret to good use for him.

   “I’m going to Baltimore,” I say on the way out, to no one in particular. “To help out on a case. Should be back by lunch. Call if you need me.”

​

Traffic on the Washington-Baltimore parkway is reasonable. It takes me just over an hour to get to the address. Arjun is waiting out front. Beside him is a young cop he likely hasn’t managed to shake.

   “Jack. Thank you for coming,” he greets, shaking my hand as the situation demands. “This is my partner, Dominic Head. Dom, Jack French.”

   “Jack French? Wouldn’t that make you Jacques?” No doubt this guy thinks he’s hilarious. 

   “Wouldn’t that make you Richard?” I almost say it, but it’s not worth it. Chances are he won’t get it, anyway. “How are you?” I reply. “This the place?”

   We go into the apartment block, take the elevator to the fifth floor. Corridor, past the crime scene tape, living room, bedroom. The metallic scent of blood, the bed completely drenched. I retreat within myself, as always. You can’t do this job and allow yourself to feel too much. Facts, notes, observations: that’s what matters. I turn to my brother-in-law. “Could I …?”

   “Sure.” Arjun nods to his partner. They leave the room.

   I close the bedroom door. Crouch to inspect the blood spatter on the pillow. Slow movements. Taking in the scene. Context is key for what I’m about to do. The large mirror looms over the room. I walk to it.  There isn’t much time. I take a deep breath and press the palm of my hand against the glass. The vision springs up at once, and I flinch. 

   She is so young, so full of life, so ... terrified. He wears black, tactical gear. Has a mask. He’s tied her to the bed. She fights it. He strikes her face. Gloved fist. She goes limp. He undresses her … 

   I take a second to breathe. Find my center.  

   … He wants to, but he can’t. It enrages him. He raises the blade, trembling, like he’s about to stab himself. He stays like this for a few seconds, and I almost hope. But there's no point, I know where this goes. I wince as it happens. I want to look away, but I can’t. It’s why I’m here. After he’s done, he fusses over her for a while. Then he stands up, still out of breath. He takes off his mask. I’ve been waiting for this moment. “Turn around, you son of a…” He does. Looks straight in the mirror, straight at me. I remember the first time it ever happened. I freaked out. Not anymore, though. That was twenty years ago. Now the mirror is just a tool. “Gotcha,” I say to myself.

   I blink a few times. Scribble some quick notes on the pad, and get out of the room. I find Arjun in the kitchen. 

   “I sent Dom on a coffee run. We have a few minutes. Got anything?” he says.

   “Yes. Do you have any suspects?” I ask.

   “I got a mug book. Here. Every person of interest to the case, even remo–”

   “It’s him,” I point to the killer’s face, there on the second page.

   “You’re sure.”

   “Absolutely. No question.”

   “The cable guy. Prior for assault and battery, couple years ago. And he had access, at least. Thanks, man, I would never have gone in that direction. Anything you can tell me to make it stick?”

   “He spent some time removing a few hairs, so you wouldn’t notice them missing. Find them at his place, maybe?”

   “You’re the best. Want to grab a beer later?”

   “I would, but I can’t. Got to get back to DC. We have one too.”

   “Reckon you’ll make quick work of him though,” says Arjun with a grin.

   “Actually, I’m not...” I hesitate, but maybe sharing my doubts will help.

   “Really?” he says. “Why?”

   “I think he knows.”

   “You mean about you? That’s impossible.”

   “I don’t know. Maybe.”

   “How do you figure, anyway?”

   “He breaks the mirrors.”