Fallen Angel

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic

More background here, while the story continues. You learning something of one of the primary antagonists of the series

Chapter 2 (v.1) - Chapter 2

Submitted: February 14, 2019

Reads: 51

Comments: 2

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Submitted: February 14, 2019



Chapter 2

The Bertenellie house was built in what Caine affectionately referred to as “Skeeter Hollar”.  It was an expensive housing area just outside Johnson City.  It was on a stretch of road known as the Boones Creek highway or the Old Jonesborough Highway.  The area had been landscaped and tailored for the rich and powerful of the Tri Cities area.  It had been set with a couple of large ponds that were man made.  These kinds of pits tended to attract mosquitos and other various pests and bugs of the nature.  Hence Caine’s nickname for the area.  He took the car down the lanes and turns up the large hill to the back of the area.  At the top of the hill, almost in the center, was the Bertenellie house.  It was not the largest home in the area but it was very close.

Caine pulled in to the short but spacious driveway and killed the engine.  He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath.  He let it out slowly.  It was almost four in the morning and he knew this visit was not going to go well.  He looked at his partner and nodded.  They both departed the vehicle and walked slowly but determinedly to the door.  Normally, this kind of thing would wait until the part of the day that actually contained day light.  Unfortunately, Caine had promised Jason that if anything every came to light he would inform him immediately.  Caine was not one to break his promises.  As they reached the door, Caine reached out and pressed the doorbell button.

Noises could barely be heard from somewhere within the recesses of the house.  He knew he’d woken Jason or his wife one; he was not sure he cared which at this point.  It seemed as though time slowed while they waited for the door to open.  After another minute, Caine grew irritated and rang the bell a second time.  It was too late, or early depending on perspective, for his patience level.  Dorian looked at his partner and shook his head.

As he did so, the door opened to a young woman in a white silken robe.  Her skin, in contrast to the robe, was dark tan and had a smoothness to it that seemed almost unnatural.  The morning air was chilly for the time of year and her body reacted to it directly.  She wrapped the robe tightly around her voluptuous form and immediately moved to cover the parts of her body that reacted to the air. When she spoke it was in a smooth velvet voice that made one understand what any man would see in such a beauty.  “Detective Caine.”  She spoke with a slightly Hispanic accent.  She stood there just staring at Caine.

He stiffened at the not quite inviting greeting he received from Jason’s wife.  “Mrs. Bertenellie.  I wonder if I could speak with you and your husband.  We have…”
Her voice was sharp and very angry when she cut Caine off. “We do not have time for your false accusations and allegations.”  She turned sharply to shut the door and was almost out of sight with the door closed when Jason’s voice came quietly from inside the house.  “Veronica, baby, what’s wrong?”

As with Veronica’s outfit, Jason’s voice and demeanor were a contrast of his wife’s.  Where she was medium height and a somewhat full bodied build, Jason was almost as tall as Caine at his five foot eleven inches and he was solid lean muscle.  His voice was deep baritone and reflected none of the sleepiness that his wife showed when she answered the door.  She stepped aside to show Jason who was standing at door.

Jason took in a sharp breath at the look on Caine’s face.  Though it was etched in anger at the greeting, Jason saw the grief and upset on his face.  “Let them in.  They aren’t here to make any kind of allegations.”  He said.  He turned and walked back in to the house and walked away from the door.  His attitude was one of a person who expected his orders to be followed.  Veronica moved away from the door and bowed at the waist as a motion for them to enter the home.  She waited for both the detectives to enter and turned to close the door.

They waited for her to escort them through the house to the room where Jason was now waiting.  He had wasted no time in getting on proper clothes.  He looked at his wife and there was a sadness in his eyes.  “Would you mind to fix us some coffee or tea so that we can at least have something to wake us up completely?”

She nodded and left the room.  Caine presumed clothing would be in her near future as well.  He prepared himself for this conversation as much as he could.  “Mr. Bertenellie, We have some information…”  Before he could finish, Bertenellie cut him off.

“I would appreciate it if we could wait for my wife.  I presume that since you saw fit to wake us this early in the day that you have information concerning our daughter.  Furthermore, it cannot be good news if you are both here and you have woken us.  I do not wish to hear this news twice and she is Jessica’s,” he pronounced his daughter’s name with a y sound and rolled it off the tongue instead of a J sound that typically accompanies a name like this one.  This was a tribute to the heritage that he had married in too,  “mother. Therefore she has a right to be here when the news is spoken.”

Caine nodded his acquiescence to the request and took the proffered seat on the suede couch that was seated against one wall of the room.  Dorian remained standing by the large wall sized glass window half facing the outside and half facing Jason. Cain situated himself and began to take in details of the room.  At the same time, he was watching Jason very closely.  After a short time, Veronica came back in to the room wearing a less revealing night gown wrapped in a longer robe.  She was carrying a tray with two small carafes.  One was marked with a black letter C on a white covering and the other a black covering with a white T on it.  She set the tray down on the expensive looking glass coffee table between Jason and Caine.  She then promptly slide on to the small loveseat next to her husband.  Her face was an opaque mask as she stared at Caine.

After several moments of clinking noises and small sips around the room, except for Dorian, there was a quiet intake of breath from Caine.  He almost seemed to look to Jason for permission to speak before he began to roll the words from his brain out in to sentences.  “I am sorry to have to be the one to deliver this news to you.  I will not drag this out and play politics because none of us has the stomach for that game, especially not with what I have to tell you.”  He waited for a moment to ensure that they were not about to interrupt him.  “Your daughter’s body has been found.  It appears this morning’s storms pulled it up from the bottom of the lake.  At this time, I cannot confirm anything other than her death.  Our best…”  Even though he was watching the two of them, the fist that hit him across the jaw still caught him by surprise.  He rolled off the couch and bounced back up holding his jaw with one hand.  He spit blood out of his mouth and eye Jason coldly.

Veronica Bertenellie had collapsed on to her side crying the tears of a mother who had lost her most prized possession.  She held her arms around her side as if to ward off the words like they were a particularly cold air.  Jason was standing next to where Caine had been sitting; his fists balled up, rage all over his face.  Caine, understanding the pain, did nothing.  He just stood there and gave the information time to settle.  Dorian, however, was not so forgiving.  He was across the room in moments and put Jason on his knees with a swift pressure point technique.  Jason, still angry and rage filled, struggled for another minute or so before he finally collapsed in to sobs.  Caine moved over to his partner and pulled him away from Jason.  “It’s ok.  You wouldn’t understand the pain.  God willing that you never do if you ever have kids.  He’s not trying to hurt me.”

After many rough minutes,

© Copyright 2019 John Flint. All rights reserved.


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