Date Published: 10-01-2022
Publisher: Bookbaby
Detective Jelani is a tough, veteran cop, who earned his stripes in the rough-and-tumble streets of St. Louis before relocating to Miami.
His
younger partner, Detective Madigan, is brash and confident. But they were
never prepared for what awaits them as they try to solve these latest
crimes. They are about to become embroiled in a series of cosmic events
which they could have never dreamt of, even in their wildest imaginations.
In a world where the angels of heaven and the angels of hell bring their
ageless battle to Earth, how will these men, and their families, overcome
such insurmountable challenges? As has been the case since the beginning of
time, God and His heavenly host are facing off with Satan and his hellish
host. Caught in the middle is Thumos, possibly the most powerful angel ever
created. He is a warrior angel, "quickened" by God for one thing:
battle. And he has seen plenty of that down through the centuries. No one
can match his prowess; not even the Archangels. But Thumos has become a
disgruntled warrior of God, and after standing by for long enough, he can
take it no more. The earthly world of these two Miami detectives will
collide with the heavenly world of Thumos. None of them know what is coming,
and none of them will ever be the same again.
About the Author
John has spent his professional career working in information technology by day and dabbling in a variety of other diversions by nights and weekends, including a few decades of serving in lay ministry. While serving in this capacity he preached hundreds of sermons, taught countless Bible study classes, and wrote dozens of inspirational articles.
He enjoys golf, guitars, grandchildren, and all things Kansas City – the Chiefs, the Royals, Sporting KC, KC Current, KC Symphony, and KC Broadway, to name a few. He thinks (if not for his long-lost metabolism of youth) he could eat the famous Kansas City barbecue every day…maybe not for breakfast, but lunch and dinner for sure!
Now he is enjoying bringing to life his angelic hero, Thumos, and a host of other characters that he hopes you will find both entertaining as well as either inspiring or repulsive (after all, there are both good guys and bad guys in this story). This is the first book of a series, featuring detectives Lane Madigan and Ian Jelani, whose experience with Thumos will yield life changing results. And if you happen to be interested in such things, happy Bible Easter Egg hunting while you read, since many are planted throughout the book.
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CHAPTER
1: THE SHAPE OF THINGS TO COME
The early morning shards of sunlight were
just beginning to streak across the wispy morning clouds in shades of pink and
orange. The renowned Miami heat was already firing up, despite the early hour,
quickly devouring the residual cool breeze of the overnight darkness. The
street vendors had already begun preparing the day’s wares, so the air was filled with the scents of a variety of tasty delicacies.
Ian Jelani ignored them all. The Miami
detective stood at the crime scene, baffled over what was before him. In all his
twelve years on Miami's Police Force he had witnessed a lot of crazy crime
scenes, but this one might top them all. And that counted the crazy stuff
during the race riots in St. Louis, when being a black policeman was a
sure-fire way to get things thrown at you. Ian was a man of average height,
athletically built, in good shape for a veteran cop. His clipper cut curly,
dark hair was showing tinges of gray around his temples, a shade that extended
to his goatee.
Ian exhaled slowly. He had investigated
more than his fair share of gang violence and ruthlessness, yet he found
himself dumbfounded today. His dark eyes darted about the area, then rubbing
his hands over his face in disbelief, he turned and called out to his partner,
“Hey Lane, you better come over and check this one out for yourself. You are
not going to believe this, partner.”
Ian watched his comrade, Detective Lane
Madigan, begin to make his way over to the crime scene. He could see the
questioning look in Lane’s eyes. Lane was younger, a little taller, probably
six feet four inches, and he looked like he could have played as a football defensive end once-upon-a-time. His dark brown hair was perfectly in place, and
his green eyes widened as he approached.
Despite the grisly scene before them, Ian
suddenly noticed the smell of fresh Cuban burritos wafting in the air,
particularly noticeable because he was already hungry for some breakfast. The
cal to this crime scene had disrupted his normal morning ritual.
“After more than two years of working
with you, bud, I know exactly what you’re thinking," called out Lane. “I
can smell them too. We definitely need to go get a couple.”
“Well I hope you’re still hungry after what
you look at here," said Ian. “It’s almost enough to kill my appetite...but
only
‘almost’, because I’m starving," he
said, watching his friend advance.
Still looking down at the implausible
situation presented to him by this overnight homicide, Ian wagged his head in
utter disbelief. What kind of force did it take to actually nail someone’s head
into a concrete sidewalk? With his bewilderment under control, his experience
and training took over as he contemplated the crime scene. Aside from the
obvious, he also noted a large rock lying on the ground near the dead man’s
body. Puzzled, he thought to himself that the sticky wet red stains on it would
not clear up this mystery any sooner.
Ian, long-having refused to give into all
the electronic gadgetry of the day, scribbled on his old-fashioned notepad. He
glanced up from it to see Lane walk up beside him. “Not another one,” Lane
muttered quietly so only they could hear.
Ian saw the younger detective looking for
answers in his eyes. Ian was sure the only thing Lane saw there was the very
same frustration and shock.
Ian maneuvered carefully around the
victim’s body to get a closer view of the head. He turned on his penlight to
get a better view in the still dimly lit morning hour. He let out a slow
whistle. That is one big spike, driven right through this poor guy’s temple.
Could the perp have used that softball sized rock nearby to drive the spike in?
Get a grip, Jelani, he told himself. It was no wonder forensics had not yet
been able to extract the spike. Not only would the extraction process further
damage the victim’s head, conventional human strength had simply failed to
budge it. He leaned in a little closer to inspect below the head as it lay in a
large pool of congealing blood on the sidewalk. The spike went at least several
inches down into the concrete, best as could be seen.
Ian stood up from his crouched position over
the body, making the sign of the cross. “Question is," he said, looking
back over at Lane, “was the victim killed with the rock, then he was impaled,
or was the perp hammering the spike into this dude’s head with the rock?”
“Or maybe neither,” retorted Lane. He was
dressed in his wrinkled khakis and department issued T-shirt," noted Ian.
That sort of ensemble only comes after
having dressed hurriedly in response to an early morning call out. Lane
continued, “It looks like there is some blood on that rock, but honestly not
that much. I mean you would think it would be covered if it had been used
either way. This is the second one of these bizarre crime scenes this week; the
fourth this month. I just don’t think I can take another one, not this early in
the morning.” He exhaled noticeably.
Lane was not a morning person, Ian
remembered. Especially when his day started out like this. In fact, Ian was not
sure he'd ever seen him eat breakfast before 10:00am in the two years they had
been partners. Good thing, thought Ian. He quickly thought how thankful he was
that he had not yet eaten any breakfast either, despite the pangs of hunger he
felt.
“What does the Doc say about this one?”
Ian asked to distract himself.
“A male, of Middle Eastern descent,"
Lane replied, as he abruptly broke off his response. Ian looked at Lane, as if
to say
“Wel , duh!”
“I could have figured that much out
myself, Captain Obvious,” responded Ian “That’s it? I sure hope Doc can find it
in herself to dig up a little more information for us than that.”
"Maybe you should spend a little
more time with the good Doctor to move things along," Lane said with a
smirk.
Ian shot Lane a look of slight disgust
over that last comment. “Okay pal," he responded," you better watch
your mouth.”
Ian knew that Lane was only trying to get
a rise out of him over comments about Dr. Lauren Wil is, and it was al in good
fun. But still , he just did not tolerate any inappropriate suggestions about
her, even from his best friend.
Lane grinned, clearly pleased with how it
grated on Ian’s nerves. He spread his arms wide, “But hey, why break the streak
– we haven’t had a decent lead on any of these ‘Hamburger Homicides’, so bring
on yet another sickening, unsolvable crime.”
“Oh I’m getting pretty disgusted with
investigating these ridiculous crime scenes," Ian said, obviously
irritated. “I’ve had it up to here with the meddling media and their ‘Hamburger
Homicides’, as they like to call them. You and I have seen a lot of crazy stuff
in our day, but I tell you what, nothing tops these crimes.”
“I hear you," answered Lane. “But
listen, no one out there is going to miss any of these nut jobs who are no
longer wandering the streets. A repeat rapist, a street gang leader, a
pedophile. Maybe their mamas miss them, but heck, probably not even them. I
can’t wait to hear about this latest dude. No doubt, he'll be right in that same
category.
Wanna make a bet on that one?”
Ian shook his head. “Nope, not touchin’ a
bet like that,” he retorted. “But look, al life is sacred, man. It may be hard
to hear it when it comes to guys like this,” he motioned his hand toward the
corpse before them, “but it’s the honest-to-God truth.”
Lane rolled his eyes a bit at Ian’s
commentary. “Okay, sure, whatever you say, Ian. That’s not the first time
you’ve tried to remind me of your thoughts on the subject.”
As the photographer showed up to take
several pictures of the crime scene, Detectives Madigan and Jelani started to
head back to their squad car. Lane broke what had turned into a long silence.
“Jelani, I’ve said it before, you know that I think al these scumbags got just
exactly what was real y coming to them.”
Ian interrupted him. “Oh
yes, you have not been quiet about that, buddy. But it’s our job to put these
whackos away, and the problem is that some gang has decided to take it upon
themselves. They are not much better than these perps.”
Lane inclined his head and screwed up his
face, “Wel that’s where we have a little disagreement…in theory only I guess.
I applaud getting these ruthless
criminals off the streets any way it can happen, but don’t get me wrong, I get
it. We just cannot have people taking the law into their own hands, or else
things get real y crazy for us good guys." He paused to run a finger under
his nose as he considered his words. " What are we supposed to do? No
worthwhile evidence has yet to turn up. No traceable murder weapons, no
fingerprints, no footprints, no tire tracks, no hair samples – nadda, nothing!”
He gestured wildly with his right hand to make his point.
Both men stopped and looked at each
other, with somber faces. Ian spoke first, “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”
“Oh my God," responded Lane. "
I don’t want to even think about this being a serial killer. That will send this
city into a panic, and put the media into a feeding frenzy. Don’t mention this
out loud yet, man.”
“No one is going to hear it from me,
that’s for sure,' said Ian grimacing. “I’ve been through one of those cases
before.
It’s the worst. The media hype just gets
in the way, and real y screws up the investigation. Beyond that, these kinds of
guys are freaking nuts. I mean the way they think, it’s just plain scary.”
“Only one way to deal with those
guys," Lane insisted, with a fire in his eyes.
“Okay, buddy, calm down," Ian
interrupted. “Just do your job, we’l figure this out. We do the investigation,
make the arrest, and let the guys downstream take care of the next step. How
many times do I have to remind you, we are not the judge, nor jury, nor executioner.”
“I just don’t see it as cut-and-dry as
you do, my friend," Lane said with a sigh. “These kinds of morons don’t
deserve any mercy.”
Ian muttered under his breath, as they
both climbed into their squad car. “This boy has got a lot to learn. But, honestly,
so do a lot of other people running around out there.”
Both car doors slammed, as Lane threw the
car into gear and the tandem sped back toward headquarters. Both men sat in
silence as they mental y reviewed these recent homicides, including today’s
bizarre crime scene. They were anticipating results from the coroner’s office,
hoping that this time, some detail, some minor piece of evidence, would turn up
to help them solve this case.
Lane and Ian turned into the police
station, where Lane pulled into their normal parking spot. Both officers walked
inside, not saying a word to each other, still pondering recent events. The
typical smell of fresh coffee in months’ dirty pots filled their nostrils, as
both men headed toward their respective desks. At least two dozen officers, a
mix of male and female, seasoned veterans, rookies, and everyone in-between,
busily worked away at their desks. Any newcomer might find this place chaotic.
A variety of phones rang, keyboard clicks rattled, multiple conversations
happened, papers shuffled, filing drawers slamming. To these officers, and
everyone else accustomed to working there day-in-day-out, it was business as
usual. Lane and Ian sat down in their office chairs just across the aisle from
each other, where they began filing appropriate reports and catching up on
emails at their computers, their earlier hunger forgotten.
After a few moments, Lane spoke up. “Hey
Ian, what do you think about al the painting and remodeling they’ve been doing
in here?”
“I hate it," Ian said very
matter-of-factly, without looking up from his computer screen.
“I don’t know. I think I kinda like it,
myself," continued Lane, almost as though having a conversation with
himself.
Ian looked up final y,
perplexed. With an alarmed tone, he said “What? Come on, this old building is a
historic location.
Some of the first real police officers of
Miami roamed these halls. The powers-that-be should be paying tribute to their
legacy by maintaining the old look and feel, but just keeping it in good
repair. Instead, they listen to the shrinks - stuff about ‘wall color affecting
our mental and emotional state’, or ‘keeping the ladies happy with a more
trendy look’. What a crock!”
“Good grief, man," Lane answered
with a laugh. “I mean I guess I just don’t have such strong feelings about it
all.
Obviously I have real y struck a nerve
here.”
“Some of the new stuff just bothers me,
it gets under my skin," Ian said. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”
Lane laughed again, and said “Dude, you
sound like my grandpa or something."
A couple of hours later, several of the
usual doughnuts and cups of coffee now consumed, Lane’s phone rang.
“Detective Madigan here.”
“Detective Madigan, this is Dr. Wilis
down at the coroner’s office. We have managed to make a positive ID on that
body found this morning. His name was Ramah Bin Shazid.”
Lane knew exactly who this person was.
“You’re kidding – Shazid the Slayer? The military has been trying to nail this
guy for years!” he blurted out. From the adjacent desk, Ian nearly spewed his
coffee in reaction to the news. Lane caught a glimpse of Ian’s reaction, and
could see the great surprise in Ian’s eyes.
Lane continued. “Ramah Bin Shazid is a
known Syrian terrorist, who is strongly suspected of several bombings over the
past three years, claiming the lives of several hundreds of people. My God,
you’re telling me he was right here in Miami? Do you have an estimated time of
death, or cause of death?”
“It looks to have happened around 3:00am.
I suppose by ‘cause’ you’re looking for an answer more definitive than
‘spike through the head’?” replied Dr.
Wil sarcastically.
“I think that’s fairly obvious, Doc. Yes,
I want to know what happened to the guy: how did he end up the way we found him
with the rock, the spike, the order of events, al that?” said Detective
Madigan, as his voice began to grow loud and excited.
“We don’t have an exact answer, as this
is a new one on us. But I would speculate that to do what was done to him,
we’re either looking at someone stronger than anyone I have ever known, or the
use of some mechanized assistance.
The rock found near the crime scene
definitely had the victim’s blood on it, but it was not the cause of death. I
would say the man’s head was first struck by the rock, and then the spike was
driven through his head, ” answered Dr. Wil is.
“Were there any signs of a struggle –
skin under the fingernails, bruised fists...," continued a very excited
Madigan.
“No, not at al,” replied Dr. Wilis.
“Either the rock knocked him unconscious, or the perpetrator was able to hold
him down on the sidewalk long enough to nail the spike right through him,” she
finished.
“Hold him down?” Who in the world is
strong enough to hold someone down, no doubt against a frantic struggle, and
also drive a spike so far into the sidewalk that nobody else can pull it back
out?" He paused for a minute considering something. He shook his head and
said “The rock must have knocked him unconscious first.”
Dr. Wilis responded, “Well I really don’t
think so, Lane. The injury from the rock was quite mild, as it was virtually a
simple breaking of the skin. It certainly did not hit the man hard enough to
knock him out, unless he was just an absolute ‘glass jaw’."
“Amazing!” Detective Madigan says, with
almost a sense of admiration. “So, can we conclude this case is related to the
other recent ‘Hamburger
Homicides’?”
“Wel, I would almost have to say…uh,
DEFINITELY! Once again, no revealing physical evidence was retrieved at the
scene of the crime. It was another what I would consider to be a
beyond-imaginable method of killing, just like all the others. It is the 21st
century, Detective. Some pretty crazy people are wandering the streets out
there. Whoever is doing al this has a very unique imagination,” concluded Dr.
Wil is.
Detective Madigan noticed Ian leaving his
desk and coming to stand next to him, eager to hear the news.
“Wel that’s certainly a nicer way of
putting it. Thanks for the info. Let me know if you guys come up with any other
helpful hints. At this point, no detail is too small. Help me out here, Lauren.
I’l talk to you later,” Detective Madigan spoke with a tone of disgust in his
voice, as he started to hang up the phone. He then paused for a moment, put the
phone back to his ear, and spoke again. “Sorry Lauren, I don’t mean to sound
angry with you, I’m just disappointed in our lack of information here."
“No apologies necessary, Lane," said
Dr. Wilis. “I get it. It is frustrating.”
Lane dropped the phone into its cradle.
Al along with these recent murder cases,
Lane thought that there was something familiar about the forms of execution
taking place. He had a sense of it being on the tip of his tongue, but he just
could not recal it. “A spike through the head?” he muttered to himself. “Where
have I heard that before?” He shrugged off that feeling, and hung up the phone,
a heaviness weighing on his shoulders. “Wel , I guess it is official ' , he
said to Ian who was half leaning against the front of his desk.
“What’s up? So come on, spit it out, what
did they turn up?” He crossed his arms and looked expectantly.
“Your girl has done it again, Jelani. She
really knows her stuff, you know,” said Lane.
Ian smiled sheepishly, “Don’t you know
it, she’s good!”
Lane continued without missing a beat.
“Once again, there is no physical evidence to speak of. But ID’ing the victim
is important. Dr. Wil is believes that rock was only periphery to the event,
and also once again, she has never seen anything quite like this. I suppose you
had better go ahead with calling the press, Ian. Let the Feds know what we
found too, as they can deal with the military inquiries, considering who is our
dearly departed. Might as well get this over with,” he replied disgustedly.
“Whatever you say Boss,” Ian said with a
nod. He knew what this meant. The media had been begging for a statement,
especial y once they had heard about the fifth body today. Miami PD hated to
make this public, but this was not news that could be kept quiet any longer.
Ian picked up the phone, and dialed his
local news contact. “Detective Jelani here. Miami PD has an official statement
to make. It looks like we have a serial killer on our hands.” Ian paused as
whomever was on the other end of the call was obviously speaking, then he
continued, “Yep, come on over I guess.”
“Hey Chief,” Ian called out, as he started
walking toward the office of Julie Franklin, captain of the precinct. “The
media is headed our way. You can be sure there wil be a bunch of ‘em too.”
Later that afternoon, Lane decided to log
the serial killings on the National Criminal Justice Reference Service. Every
time he used it he was amazed at how the voluminous database could help to
track and catalog crimes committed around the country. As he keyed in the
information, he thought how he probably should have done this sooner, but had
held off as long as possible. Miami already got enough attention, of the wrong
sort, and this would just add to it.
By 5:00pm, Lane saw some
responses coming from various parts of the country. “Hey Ian, come take a look
at al this.”
“At what?” answered Ian, but without
acting as though he was going to heed Lane’s request.
“Just come over here, man," Lane
said in a bit of a hushed tone.
“Okay, okay, don’t get your panties in a
wad,” said Ian. He walked over quickly to Lane’s desk.
Lane looked up at Ian. “There are a few
other police stations reporting eerily similar incidents, just like some of the
crazy stuff we’re seeing here.”
“Seriously?” said Ian, more intrigued,
crouching down to look at Lane’s screen. “What are you talking about?”
“I mean like some of the same gruesome
murders we are seeing," said Lane somberly. “Criminals of al sorts are
failing.
We’re talking high profile offenders,
local hoodlums, apparently even some other international criminals like Shazid
the Slayer. This even sounds like some of this craziness is happening outside
the good ol’ US of A.”
Ian started to get excited. “This is some
news-breaking headline junk, my friend..we…."
“Look," Lane quickly interrupted.
“We can’t create some kind of nationwide firestorm here. I don’t think anyone
is cognizant of al this just yet. This is going to take some further
investigation before I’m wil ing to take this anywhere.”
A chil ran up Lane’s spine, as he looked
Ian squarely in the eyes. He said “What if this is some kind of nationwide
crime spree, like some terrorist thing? Maybe some organized crime resurgence?”
“Maybe some kind of home-grown supremacy
group, or some crazy crap like that," said Ian.
“Wel none of these sound like great
options," said Lane sarcastically. “And if there is some nationwide, or
God-forbid, a worldwide connection in al of this, we are going to be in way
over our heads real fast. We need some time to think about al this."
“It’s getting late, and I’m starving and
tired," said Ian.
“Sure is late," replied Lane. “And
I’m glad you said it in that order, because I know for a fact it’s the
‘starving’ part that comes first for you, then the ‘tired’ part.” Lane
chuckled.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re a funny guy,"
Ian said dryly. “But you’re absolutely right, you know me al too well.”
“Wel, I know my family is waiting on me,
so I need to get home, for sure. We need time to sleep on al this anyway, take
a fresh look in the morning,” said Lane.
“Agreed” said Ian, “Al right, I’l catch
you in the morning, buddy. Enjoy your evening with the fam," and he shot
out the door.
Lane left soon afterwards as well, and
pondered this al as he drove home. “Maybe I’m just reading too much into al
this," he thought to himself. “Maybe I’m just being too paranoid." He
pul ed into the driveway, and his thoughts turned to kissing his wife, hugging
his daughter, eating a delicious home cooked meal, and then getting a good
night’s sleep. He was more than ready for this day to be done.
Thanks for hosting a tour stop for my book!
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