ORIGINAL AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have a novel written about the background incidents referred to in this part, entitled Minot (so original). I wrote it shortly after learning about supposed Satanic activity that took place in the Minot, ND area (so this isn't entirely made up--the Falcon's Nest was a real place, too, though I've taken tons of liberties, even with Minot itself). There's even an alleged Son of Sam connection...rather outlandish, but makes for good story fodder.
Lt. Kincaid is the main character of that book...but the novel is just so horribly, horribly bad. ;_; Seriously needs a rewrite. The big reveal about Kincaid at the end is so off by now that it's ridiculous. I mean...WOW is it bad. Just so very, very bad. And not the good type of bad, but the really bad type of bad. Ugh.
But anyway. Minot was the novel that spun off of another series of mine (the D Is For Damien series) and took on a life of its own, but, sadly, so far is the only novel of the spinoff series that's been written. (Four P, the novel introducing Det. Kristeva, was started but never finished. This was long before I realized he has DID, but he showed signs even back then. Yes, my characters surprise me like that.)
This scene is a summary of part of Minot, from Kristeva's POV some years later. And yeah, my timeline of events is kind of off (this scene should be taking place around 1997, but I'm writing it as if it's around 2000 or so), but whatever.
Deputy Hatcher called the next day, informing him that a search through the county records hadn't brought up much--she and Deputy Scott had spent hours browsing through dusty files and microfiche* and had found only the standard items, such as news articles from the time when Singer disappeared. There were vague references to some sort of raid that had taken place in the early Eighties, but apparently this had happened some time after Singer's disappearance, so he hadn't been involved. "Still," Hatcher had said, lowering her voice a little (Kristeva wondered if Sheriff Rhoades had entered the room at that moment), "it did come up when we did a search for Singer's name, even though he wasn't mentioned anywhere in the report. Maybe, I dunno, it was related to his case, somehow...?"
"Tell him about the other thing," Scott's voice came from some distance.
"Oh, right. There was one other thing. The guy in charge of the raid, his name was Sgt. Mark Kincaid. We checked. Same Kincaid."
Kristeva pursed his lips as he often did when in thought, though of course Hatcher couldn't see it. "Interesting...thanks, Trace. I owe you one."
"Sure, you say that now..." Hatcher said in a pouty voice, and he rolled his eyes when she hung up before he could. The two of them had been involved for a short while, back when he himself was a deputy at the county post; now she was with Scott, though he suspected, despite her feigned indifference, that she still had some feelings. For some reason he'd never managed to see her as more than a friend, and he rather wished their awkward relationship had never taken place.
He mulled over what he'd been told on his drive to the station; there had been no updates from Buchanan or Cheryl Singer yet, so he didn't have much else to ponder at the moment. Kincaid was a name well known at the city post, and not only because it was the name of their lieutenant and second in charge after Bowen. Mark Kincaid had been Lt. Kincaid's foster father for some years before his suicide. A memorial picture of him still hung on the wall at the station. This itself wouldn't have piqued Kristeva's interest so much, if the circumstances of how Alan Kincaid had ended up in his custody hadn't been so strange.
He didn't know all of the details, though out of curiosity, one of the first things he'd looked up after being placed in charge of the new Missing Persons Unit was Alan Kincaid's name. Technically, their lieutenant was a missing person. At least, nobody knew his real last name, or where he was from, or who his family was. Rhoades had suggested that something was iffy about the lieutenant and that was part of the reason Kristeva had been transferred, to look into his background, though he hadn't been much interested in snooping into other people's business like that, nor did he care to find out the sheriff's motives; he suspected the move had been just as much about getting rid of him, as well. All the official report said was that the teenager who would later become their lieutenant had been found by Sgt. Mark Kincaid during the investigation of a crime, and in the absence of known family, the sergeant had taken him in. All records related to exactly what the crime in question was, or the specifics of Kincaid's rescue, or what sort of investigating had been done into his missing background, were off limits. If they even still existed.
When Kristeva thought about it, the similarities between this case and Singer's were somewhat eerie. Previously, he'd chalked up the silence to the typical shame and embarrassment caused by Sgt. Kincaid's suicide, but the longer he mulled it over, the less that made any sense.
There was also the matter of Sgt. Kincaid's suicide, itself. From what little he'd been able to dig up, even though Alan Kincaid's rescue had shaken him, Sgt. Kincaid had shown no signs of severe depression or of wanting to end his own life. The fact that he'd taken charge of the teenager's care, and had been helping him through police training, made his suicide seem even more bizarre. Why would he have killed himself when he had someone who depended on him...?
"And even if he would have dumped us, he never, never would've bailed out on his job. Not while that kid still needed him, at least..."
Kristeva bit the inside of his mouth and frowned at the windshield. The close proximity of the dates of Singer's disappearance, and of whatever this raid had been--both took place in the early Eighties--niggled at him so much that he wondered if all of these things were connected, or if he were merely getting paranoid.
Both cases had apparently been hushed up, as well...
At the station, he booted up his computer, fetched a mug of coffee while waiting for it to creak and grind to life (even though he didn't care for coffee), and the very first thing he did was a quick search of the years of service of Minot's police officers. Singer hadn't been involved in Sgt. Kincaid's raid--he'd been gone by then. But still...
When the results came up, Kristeva leaned toward the monitor and compared them. Just as he'd started suspecting, there was an overlap between the years of service of the two policemen. Singer might not have participated in Sgt. Kincaid's raid, but the two of them had definitely worked in the station at the same time. They would have known each other.
He leaned back in his chair, and glanced behind him. The door to Lt. Kincaid's office was shut, just as it almost always was. At some point in the past somebody, probably as some sort of joke, had hung a framed printed sign upon the door that read DON'T FIDDLE WITH MAGIC. Even though he seemed to possess no sense of humor, for some reason the lieutenant had never taken it down. Kristeva stared at this for a moment, mulled over the thought of just speaking with him directly, then abandoned the thought. He turned back to the computer and looked up one of the news articles about Sgt. Kincaid's death.
He'd shot himself in the upstairs bedroom of the house he shared with Alan Kincaid, who'd recently finished training at the time. Alan had broken down the locked door of the bedroom to get to him before calling 911, even though several other residents of the suburban neighborhood had already done the same, having heard the gunshot. Kincaid's house was in the same general neighborhood as Kristeva's, so he knew how quickly such news would have traveled. One of the first on the scene had been a neighbor and the owner of a local restaurant/bar that was often frequented by police, the Falcon's Nest; he'd also been the first, besides Alan Kincaid, to see the body. As such, he'd been interviewed both by police and by reporters, and there was a small quote by him in the article Kristeva had selected. He'd read it several times before, but Phil Falcon's quote hadn't really struck him as significant before now.
"It's just so strange. You think you know how somebody is doing, but you don't. Everything seemed to be going great with his life, he was doing good at his job, had a kid to look out for, started seeing a lady, he's the last person you'd expect to just give up on life..."
Started seeing a lady.
Kristeva peered toward Kincaid's office again. He'd looked up pictures of the funeral; the death of a police officer was always a big thing, and so there was plenty of documentation. Sgt. Kincaid had had no family of his own, so none had attended. Alan Kincaid had been there, Chief Bowen had been there, all the other police officers from the city and county and state posts had been there. Aside from female police officers, there had been no woman grieving at Sgt. Kincaid's funeral.
Before he was even aware of what he was doing, he'd picked up the phone and started dialing the number of the Falcon's Nest. He mentally rebuked himself for engaging in something so frivolous, but the call picked up before he could change his mind, and he asked the woman on the other end--Mariposa, he thought he remembered her name being--to speak with Phil. After a few minutes waiting--apparently the place was busy already--a cheery voice exclaimed, "Philip J. Falcon*, at your service!"
Kristeva rolled his eyes again. "Hey Phil, it's Max Kristeva, from the MPD...?"
"Oh, hey! I bet it sounds weird saying that and not 'Sheriff's Department,' huh? Haven't seen you in here in a while, hope everything's going okay?"
"Yeah, just busy with new stuff. I wanted to ask you about an interview you gave some years back, I'm not sure if you recall, it was after Mark Kincaid's suicide."
Silence. That was rather odd, seeing how chatty Phil usually was. "Erm...yeah, what about it...?" he asked after a moment, sounding cautious and perplexed.
"You talked with a newspaper about what you heard that day and what you thought of the incident. Don't worry, I won't get into all the unpleasant stuff. I was just looking for clarification on something you said about Mark's personal situation."
"I...ahm...thought you said you were busy with new stuff," Phil said, still sounding confused. "That interview was...Jeez, I can't even recall how long ago! Kinnie's all grown up and stuff by now. I'm not sure what it was I said, is it really important at all?"
"Just that you mentioned Mark being involved with a woman. You remember saying that?"
"Yeah, I do. Why?"
"I was just wondering how you knew. From what I hear about him Mark Kincaid was a pretty private guy, right?"
He'd never actually heard any such thing, was merely guessing, but--"Yeah, that's true," Phil confirmed. "It's not like he ever talked about hooking up with anybody or anything, just that he showed up here with her a few times, you know? Since all you guys eat here all the time."
"You saw them together? You're sure it was something romantic and not just friends or a contact or something?"
"Yeah, they'd sit in a booth and talk. And, well, it's not like I can confirm it 100%, but I'm pretty sure they were more than just friends, I mean, if the way she hung off his arm whenever they left, and touched his leg under the table, are any indication..."
"Could you describe her at all?"
"Wow, Jeez, it's been so long...I'm no good with faces like that. Just some pretty lady, is all. Long dark hair. Maybe in her late twenties or thirties. Hey, why are you asking me about this when you could just ask Kinnie? He probably saw her a lot more than I ever did, he could probably tell you more."
Kristeva blinked. "Lt. Kincaid knew about this woman--?"
"Well, yeah. I mean, he came to the Nest now and then when Mark was here, and saw them together, though I never saw the two of them talk or anything. And I just assume Mark took her home once in a while, right? Kind of hard not to run into somebody when they're in your own house..."
Kristeva was only half listening by now, staring at the sign on Kincaid's door. "Interesting," he said, only to stop Phil's prattling, and the man on the other end of the line fell silent. "Thanks, Phil. This's been helpful."
"Seriously? Well...okay, then, I guess. Hey, make sure you stop in here sometime in the next week, okay?--we've got a special going, 25% off the bill for anyone who shows a badge! And not for the purposes of shutting me down, ha ha."
Kristeva offered a lukewarm promise and hung up. He made himself turn away from Kincaid's office, since it did have a window overlooking the main office, even though the blinds were usually kept drawn; he had no idea what the lieutenant did in there all day, but figured it couldn't be any weirder than what he was doing right now.
After a brief pause, he got up and exited the main room, entering the hallway that passed the file rooms. At the end of this hall was another room with cafeteria-style tables and chairs, and several dry-erase boards on rolling stands. Kristeva shut the door behind him and booted up one of the computers standing on the counter in this room; it too protested loudly as it started up, though it wasn't quite as cranky as his own, and he looked at the blank boards while he turned on a nearby printer.
This was the room where groups of police officers and detectives would occasionally gather to brainstorm solutions to cases; he'd heard such places called "murder rooms," though seeing as it was more often used for other purposes, he found that name inadequate. It wasn't used very often, only for the more serious and complicated cases; he'd been involved in a brainstorming session here only once so far. So he figured nobody would mind much if he put it to use for himself for a while.
He rolled a board forward and jotted down Singer's name, years of service, approximate date of his undercover work, and date of disappearance; then Sgt. Kincaid's name, years of service, the date of the raid, and the date of his suicide. Just because it seemed only fitting, he printed out pictures of both of them from their police files and stuck these on the board near their information, then sat on the edge of a table and stared at them for several moments. No new ideas came to mind, which was a bit irritating, considering the dramatics he'd gone to to provide inspiration.
He looked from Singer's photo to Sgt. Kincaid's, then to a blank spot to the right of them, an imaginary spot where further information should be posted. Then back to Singer. He chewed on a marker even though it was a bad habit. Then, on looking through these displays again--one, two, three--something crept its way into his brain.
"I lost three guys to that case, and almost lost a fourth. And even with as much of a pain in the ass as you are, I'm hardly going to go losing another..."
Kristeva blinked.
Three guys.
Almost a fourth.
He hesitated, then stepped toward the board, took the marker from his mouth, and tentatively wrote:
1. Wesley Singer
2. Mark Kincaid
3. ?
4. ?
After another slight pause, he amended this, writing in "missing" after Singer's name, and "suicide" after Sgt. Kincaid's. The other two slots remained just as blank as before, however.
He tapped the marker on the edge of the board and mulled this over, then went back to the idle computer. He did a search for Minot police officers who had been killed in the line of duty. There were relatively few, and aside from Sgt. Kincaid, none of the dates of death seemed to line up with anything he was looking into.
Annoyed, he erased that search. Strike one.
He then did a search about missing police officers. Singer's was the only name that came up. He'd rather expected that, but sighed anyway, and clicked backspace. Strike two. His mind went blank then, and he turned and stared at the two photos on the board, willing some idea, any idea, to come to fruition.
Lost three guys. Lost three guys.
How do you "lose" somebody on the force...?
Death.
Disappearance.
And then, just like that, the word popped into his head.
Fired.
Kristeva slowly turned back to the waiting computer. The cursor blinked at him. He placed his fingers over the keys and almost didn't start typing--coming up with so many promising leads, yet so many dead ends, was starting to get the slightest bit irksome, and a growing headache was telling him maybe he should focus on something more easily solved. But he started typing anyway, and requested a listing of Minot police officers who had been fired or otherwise terminated from their jobs.
Like the previous two searches, it wasn't a long list. Despite the strangeness of the cases he was currently looking into, Minot wasn't particularly known for any great scandal among its police force. Which was why one of the search results popped out at him almost immediately, even though it was from the late Nineties*--not that long ago at all--and so apparently had no overlap with Singer's and Sgt. Kincaid's cases. He clicked the link and brought up a third photo of a police officer in uniform, alongside the name OFC. CHAD JENNER.
It was weird...Kristeva had actually heard of him, only in passing. If the Minot Police Department could have been said to have had a scandal, then that was it.
He browsed through the file, which told of Officer Jenner's work history (he hadn't been particularly outstanding at his job, but neither had he caused any sort of trouble), then came to the ending where he'd been terminated and taken into custody following one murder and two attempted murders. Apparently, he hadn't been responsible for the actual murder, but was indeed behind the other two incidents. He hadn't bothered offering a defense, instead pleading guilty, and was currently serving a life sentence. Kristeva suspected it was only because he'd testified against the actual murderer that he'd earned the possibility of parole.
But this case was the late Nineties, not the early Eighties. Kristeva tapped his finger on the mouse and considered closing the file, but some stray bit of curiosity overcame him, and he went looking for the names of the murderer and victims.
The murderer--Mitchell Barnes, apparently just some nobody with a history of minor offenses, but nothing hinting at potential murder. Got involved with the wrong crowd and wanted to prove himself, and ended up doing so in the worst possible way.
The murder victim--Juliana "July" Lockett, another nobody who didn't even seem to have any sort of record.
Near-victim number one--Psyche Cooper, somebody visiting from out of state, who seemed to have been on a date with Officer Jenner at the time of the incident.
Near-victim number two--Lt. Alan Kincaid.
Kristeva started clicking around. News articles would probably be more informative than police reports, as usual, and they were. He found an article that described how Lt. Kincaid had broken into Officer Jenner's residence and prevented him from killing Psyche Cooper, suffering a gunshot wound to the shoulder for his efforts. He'd been hospitalized for a rather lengthy period afterwards...the article left many things unsaid, but judging by the length of the stay, and certain comments made by Sheriff Rhoades before he'd transferred him, he suspected part of the hospitalization had been psychiatric. He definitely wasn't judging...just another reason to ignore Rhoades's motives in moving him here.
He suspected this was also part of the reason their lieutenant had the unflattering nickname of "Kooky Kincaid." A name none of the other officers dared say in Kincaid's or especially Bowen's presence.
He browsed that article and others for a possible motivation behind the attempted murder, but could find none. Articles on the murder of July Lockett were just as clueless. But a connection definitely existed between the two incidents, even if nobody knew for sure what it was. There was no other reason for Jenner to have testified against Mitch Barnes.
He read around for a half hour or so longer, trying to find any other incidents that might have tied in with these, but the most interesting thing he found was an odd spike in the number of animal disappearances and mutilations. He'd been aware of this already, as he himself had looked into some of these cases back then, and had even started a small file of his own on the phenomenon. For some odd reason the Falcon's Nest seemed to draw more than its share of mutilated animal carcasses and graffiti; Kristeva theorized this had something to do with the high police presence there, but couldn't be sure. Stories abounded of "Satanic" activity in the Minot area, but aside from isolated groups of troublemaking teenagers and the occasional adult dabbler, there wasn't much evidence of an actual cult.
Kristeva felt his mouth twitch as he thought this, still browsing through unpleasant pictures of beheaded dogs and goats. It sure was a skeptical thought to have, considering that he'd devoted a good amount of his spare time, prior to the MPU, gathering information on such activities. He had his own computer at home, nestled in a corner of the unused dining room, with such articles plastered all over the nearby wall. During his brief marriage, his wife had found it an odd habit, and had kept away from that area as much as possible.
He froze in his browsing, then scrolled back up. He'd switched from looking through news articles back to police reports, since the papers would typically be reluctant to publish such gruesome photos. And this photo was quite gruesome--a dead goat, staked and tied to a tree, with blood all around it. A sign had been hung around its neck--YOUR NEXT PIG.
Kristeva stared at this photo for several silent moments. He thought he'd heard about most of the animal mutilation cases that had occurred around that time...but this one was unfamiliar. He'd never seen this photo at all. He could tell from the background surroundings that this had taken place in the patch of property behind the Falcon's Nest. At first, the meaning of the note confused him--why would the killer of the goat proclaim that this was somebody's next pig?--but then he grimaced and shook his head at thinking such a stupid thing. Obviously, the creator of the sign just had no understanding of grammar. Obviously, the sign should have read, YOU'RE NEXT, PIG.
Pig.
Kristeva looked at the date of this particular find. Then clicked around and found the date of the Lockett murder, and of the Jenner/Cooper incident. The goat came first, then Lockett, then the attempted murders. All within the span of several weeks.
A mutilated animal with the threat "You're next, pig," left at a police hangout, shortly before a police officer was implicated in a murder and then attempted killing another police officer, could not be coincidental in the least.
Neither could the fact that one of the near-victims was related to another police officer who'd committed suicide, possibly in relation to a case involving another police officer who'd gone missing. Could it?
"I lost three guys to that case, and almost lost a fourth."
Kristeva stood and returned to the board. Picked up the marker, paused, then filled out what had been left empty.
1. Wesley Singer--missing
2. Mark Kincaid--suicide
3. Chad Jenner--fired/imprisoned
4. Alan Kincaid--attempted murder
One, two, three...almost four.
Intentionally or not, Chief Bowen had tied the three cases together.
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