Naive Charles Royce (great novels .txt) 📖

He opens each drawer of the dresser. T-shirts, panties, socks. Nothing.

He stops at the third drawer. He sees a black-and-white carved box. It looks familiar, only much larger. He opens the box. A cell phone rests on the left. Tucked beside it is the letter he’s gone to great lengths to find, the one with his signature logo on the front of the envelope, the one his friend Lenny wrote years ago implicating him as the murderer. To the right of the letter is a small note on folded yellow paper, with the words “GHOSTS DON’T EXIST” written in block letters. The yellow note sits atop a homemade bomb, complete with a timer.

((5-4-3-2-1… BOOM!))

As the explosion fills the room, the letter shoots across the room, tossing and turning with each heaving flame. Plumes of fire, smoke, and ash push past the letter and through the windows, littering debris onto the street below. The unopened letter is engulfed by the flames and reduces to ash.

Ghost’s broken and charred body lies paralyzed in the corner of Jenna’s room. He opens his eyes. He cannot move. He can barely see. Partially aflame, the folded yellow note, the only evidence that can potentially prove that someone is framing Ghost for the murder, continues to glide through Jenna’s bedroom. Out of the corner of his eye, Ghost spots the flittering object floating through the air, a yellow butterfly soaring with majestic beauty, dancing and flapping in a beautiful display of unfettered joy. Everything within him cheers for the creature as it flies out the window to freedom only to float back inside the room, landing beside him just outside his view. He closes his eyes and lets out a long breath. The flame on the yellow note reduces to a flicker, eventually dying next to Bastien Morrell himself, the words “GHOSTS DON’T EXIST” still visible.

Pedestrians at the corner of Henry and Rutgers gather to watch the blaze shooting out of the second-floor apartment at 10 Rutgers, the six-story building just north of the church with the bell tower. The tai chi class in the park across the street pauses their peaceful meditation and watches through the iron fence.

Other windows begin to buckle and burst as the flames begin to engulf the building. Small sections of brick continue to drop to the pavement as onlookers begin to scream and run, fearful their peaceful neighborhood is under attack.

Minutes later, firemen arrive and burst into Jenna’s apartment, number 228. They go room by room until they reach the fire’s point of origination. Opening Jenna’s bedroom door blows a small ember onto the yellow note, sparking new life in the charred edges, consuming the note in a rapid flash of hungry fire. The black lacy remains fly out the window and disintegrate into nothingness.

C h a p t e r   5 4

“We found what was left of Bastien Morrell, the man we refer to as Ghost, identified by the tattoo you see here.”

Detective Bronson Penance shows Astrid Lerner a gruesome photo of a bloody and burned torso lying face down, arms missing to the elbow. His remaining clothes are burned away, scorched, or melted into what is left of his body. A partial shoulder tattoo of the Ghost logo is blackened and barely visible.

They are sitting in the work area just outside of Astrid’s office, surrounded by paralegals, police officers and detective teams, all brought in from their weekends to ascertain what has happened.

“Was he wearing coveralls?” Astrid asks Detective Penance, trying to make out the bits and pieces of the scene. “And it’s burned to a crisp, but does that part right there have an iron-on that says ‘LES’?”

“Maybe, I can’t really tell,” says the detective.

“We thought about this guy early on,” she says. “Couldn’t find him.”

“We also found some tiny fragments of what we think is a wooden box strewn around the room,” Detective Penance continues. “Some fragments were unburnt and had black-and-white markings similar to the African box that housed the camera. We think it’s the box that held the bomb.”

“Christ,” Astrid says, putting it all together. “He was pinning it on Jenna. How could we have been so wrong?”

“We think he came there to kill her, plant a bomb,” Detective Penance reasons out loud. “It was a homemade device, but it was powerful. We think his plan blew up, so to speak.”

“Jesus, Bron,” Astrid says.

“Jenna’s safe. She’s with Josh, has been since around noon.”

“That’s good. Have you heard from Lily?”

“The police are still searching the apartment complex where she was last seen, somewhere in Alphabet City,” Detective Penance answers. “She canceled her backup request, so hopefully she’s okay, maybe took the rest of the day off. I was supposed to be off today, too, but look what you made me do.”

Astrid laughs. A policeman holding a laptop and a plastic bag comes toward her.

Officer Mateo Palino enters the room.

“We didn’t find much left of Jenna’s condo,” offers Palino. “But there was a closet on the opposite side of the apartment, and the contents were mostly safe. We found this plastic bag and a laptop. Melted a bit outside, as you can see, but it powers on. Wanted to get these to you immediately.”

“Let’s check it,” says Astrid. “Copy the drive and get some people on it.”

She takes the plastic bag and looks inside.

“My God.” She reels backward from the smell.

“One more thing,” Palino says. “The kitchen was mostly destroyed, but we did find a set of Jenna’s knives that match the exact same knives that belonged to Micah and Lennox. We are testing to see if any DNA can be recovered from any of them.”

“Well, test these bloody clothes as well.” Astrid hands the black plastic bag to Officer Palino.

C h a p t e r   5 5

Astrid, Detective Penance, and Offer Palino watch with their eyes and mouths wide open. The screen they are viewing is filled with hours of silent movie images that pass by in a