Who Is Benjamin Reeves? (Book 5 of the Detective Jacob Hayden Series)

By Charles Prandy

Six year-old Benjamin Reeves’ parents were shockingly murdered. Detective Jacob Hayden soon discovers that someone is stalking Benjamin, but why? Using his gut instincts, experience, and knack for figuring out hard situations, Detective Hayden will do anything and everything in his power to protect Benjamin and solve his parent’s murders. What Jacob doesn't know is that Benjamin has secrets of his own, which hold the key to solving this crime. These secrets not only killed his parents, but just may kill Benjamin and Detective Hayden too!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Charles Prandy
• Release date: Jun 3, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311729613

Charles Prandy

I have a deep passion for crafting stories that seamlessly enthrall readers, transporting them into captivating worlds where time slips away unnoticed. My particular enthusiasm lies in the realm of suspenseful narratives, where I strive to keep readers eagerly guessing the outcome. Nothing brings me greater joy than receiving messages from readers exclaiming, "You had me on the edge of my seat throughout! I simply couldn't tear myself away." This is the immersive experience I aspire to create with every piece I write.

Book preview

Prologue

His breathing was heavy but consistent. Sometimes he snored when he slept on his back, but tonight he was on his side. He was in a peaceful sleep, lying snug under a blanket on which Spider-Man swung between buildings, his head resting on a matching pillow.

The room was quiet and dark with the exception of a faint glow from a night-light opposite his bed. His mouth was slightly agape, drool caught between the side of his mouth and the pillowcase. Cuddled between his arms was his favorite superhero, Spider-Man. His mother had bought him the two-foot doll for his fourth birthday and they’d been best friends ever since.

He cradled Spider-Man close whenever he woke from a bad dream. With the hero there to protect him, he didn’t have to call to his parents as often. Before he would go to sleep, he gripped Spidey’s wrist and sprayed an invisible web around the circumference of the bed, just like his dad had taught him; it kept away any monsters that might emerge from inside the closet or underneath the bed. He even dressed like Spider-Man when he slept, with the exception of the mask.

He didn’t wake immediately when his father shook him. He didn’t hear the stress and fear in his dad’s voice as he called his name. Benjamin Reeves was dreaming about his first day of school, just two days ago. He was beginning first grade, anxious to play with the kindergarten friends he hadn’t seen all summer. He knew that his first grade teacher was going to be Mrs. Saulters; he’d met her last week at the back to school festival. Her hair was the same blond color as his mom’s and she was tall; Benjamin had to bend his head way back to look up at her, just like he did with his dad.

Finally, he roused from sleep. He heard his name being called frantically. When he opened his eyes, his father stood over him, pulling off the blanket. He didn’t understand the look on his father’s face. He’d never seen it before. He was too young to understand that his father was scared. That something had frightened him enough to wake Benjamin up.

What’s wrong, Daddy? Benjamin asked softly.

His father reached down and picked him up, speaking faster than Benjamin was used to.

You know the place that you like to hide from me and Mommy sometimes? Well, I want you to hide there right now and don’t make a sound, okay?

I’m sleepy, Daddy. I don’t want to play hide-and-seek now.

Benjamin’s dad carried him out of the room and into the hall. The house was in darkness, but he made no move for the switches.

Where’s Mommy?

Mommy’s playing too. She’s hiding right now.

They reached the middle of the hall and stopped in front of a narrow glass table. Benjamin’s dad lowered him to the ground.

Ben, you have to do something really important for Daddy, okay? Just like you do when you play hide-and-seek, I need you to be as quiet as you can. Can you do that for me?

Benjamin nodded, yes.

It doesn’t matter what you hear. You don’t say anything until either me or Mommy come for you. Understand?

Yes.

His dad pushed the table aside. The lower halves of the walls in the hallway were covered with decorative wainscoting panels, and Benjamin’s father moved a panel aside to reveal a crawl space just big enough to accommodate his son.

Remember, Ben, don’t make a sound.

As Benjamin crawled in, he heard the sound of glass breaking.

What’s that noise, Daddy?

Hurry, Ben! Get in.

When Benjamin was finally snug in the crawl space, his dad put a finger over his mouth and covered the opening, leaving him in the dark. He heard the same sound of breaking glass again, and then he heard the creak of the front door. He knew the sound well; usually, it meant his dad was home from work.

Now, though, it meant something else. He didn’t recognize the voices he heard, but he could tell there were two of them. In his kindergarten class, he’d learned a few Spanish words like ‘Hola’ which meant ‘Hello’ and ‘Como te llamas?’ which meant ‘What’s your name?’, but he couldn’t make sense of the words coming from the deep voices.

His father’s voice cut in, but he spoke in the same way as the other two voices. He didn’t know his dad could speak like that. First, their voices were low, then one of the voices grew louder. It wasn’t his father’s.

Next, he heard a thump and his father yelled, No!

A loud bang came after that, and then he didn’t hear his father’s voice anymore.

Instead, he heard heavy footsteps. Wanting to be well-behaved, even during such an odd game, he didn’t make a sound. Soon, he heard the voices again, speaking in the way he didn’t understand. Seconds later, he heard his mother’s voice, but it wasn’t the way he was used to hearing it. She was crying, then screaming, then the loud bang sounded again. Benjamin didn’t hear his mother anymore.

The footsteps stomped down the hall and Benjamin knew they were walking to his room; the floor creaked the same right before his parents came to tuck him in. The voices came back, one quicker than it had been before, and then Benjamin heard all kinds of noises coming from his room. He decided that Daddy and the men must be doing something and, hearing things break, hoped they were being careful.

The noises continued for a while and then, after a short pause, the heavy footsteps walked back along the hall and down the stairs. More noises came from downstairs, more things breaking, though Benjamin was less worried because his best toys were in his room. Several minutes later, Benjamin heard the front door open. After that, he didn’t hear the men any more. He figured his dad would be coming for him soon, so he tried his best to stay awake.

Benjamin fell asleep in his favorite hiding space.

His dad never came to get him.

One

My eyes shot open and I took in a deep breath. The night sky lit up for a second or two, and then a rumble of thunder seemed to shake my bed. I wasn’t sure what had woken me; the thunder or the dream, but my body felt jittery and uneasiness settled over me. I shrugged the blanket from my left shoulder and, as the cool night air spread over my undershirt, I realized that I’d been sweating. My shirt was soaked through, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep until I’d changed it.

I turned slowly and felt Jayden’s arm around my waist. We’d grown closer over the past few months and, depending on how late we got off work, had started staying the night at her place or mine. As a homicide detective with the D.C. police department, keeping a normal schedule was out of my control, and as an FBI agent, Jayden was in the same position.

I slid out of her embrace and sat up in bed, slipping off my undershirt. Lightning lit up the sky again and the thunder rumbled, jolting Henry, my chocolate Labrador, from his sleep on the floor. He looked at me, getting ready to bark, but stopped when I raised a finger to my lips. I stood up and motioned for him to follow me out of the room.

In the kitchen, I turned on the faucet and splashed my face with the cool water. The clock on the microwave told me that it was nearly three in the morning. I leaned against the counter and dried my face with a paper towel. I still felt jittery and every creak that I heard in the house caused me to quickly look its way; my dream had freaked me out more than I’d realized.

It had been about Bernard Fields. It’d been months since his capture, but I hadn’t been able to get his devilish image out of my head. Every time I closed my eyes to sleep, his face was right there, burned into my mind. I imagined that I heard his deep voice say, Leave this place, and then saw his ghostly eyes staring at me as his hand was wrapped around the neck of another detective, threatening to squeeze the life out of him. I’d checked up on him twice and he was still locked away at a federal penitentiary in Virginia. Out of all the people I’d arrested, he was the one I’d be checking up on for as long as I lived.

Wanting to shake his image from my mind, I walked into the living room and looked around. My eyes fell on the photograph of me and Theresa hanging on the wall. It’d been two years since her murder and even though I’d moved on with my life, I felt like a part of her was still with me. The picture showed us walking through a park in the fall; she had jumped on my back and taken a selfie of us. It was a constant reminder of our innocence and love.

I reached for the frame and pulled it off the wall. I stared at her and thought about what her voice used to sound like and how her laugh had been instantly contagious. I hadn’t heard that laugh in two years and, without realizing it, tears had begun to bead in my eyes, nearly falling onto the picture. I felt Henry rub against my leg and, when I looked down, he was looking up at me as if he wanted to give me a hug. Henry was the last gift that Theresa gave me before she was killed, and even though he only knew her for one day and was a puppy when she gave him to me, I got the sense that he missed her too.

I knelt down and rubbed Henry’s head. He put his nose into my chest and wagged his tail.

Male bonding? Jayden asked from the staircase.

I turned around, surprised that I hadn’t heard her come down.

What? Oh, a little bit, I guess.

Everything okay? Or do you normally do this at three in the morning? she asked with a smile.

Of course. Me and Henry love being up before dawn, doing nothing but standing in the middle of the living room.

She walked closer and then looked at the picture I was holding.

You sure you’re okay?

Yeah, I’m fine. Just had a bad dream, that’s all.

I placed the picture back on the wall.

Did I wake you?

Not intentionally. Your side of the bed was wet. Did you pee the bed?

We both laughed. If nothing else, Jayden had a way with words. I walked over and gave her a hug, gently kissing her forehead.

Since we’re up, maybe you can make your famous white hot chocolate? she said.

Two cups, coming up.

I was about to find the ingredients when my phone rang. I looked at it and then over at Jayden. Being in law enforcement, we both knew that when our phone rang during the middle of the night, we’d be out of the door within minutes.

Maybe later, she said.

Maybe it’s a wrong number.

You’ll only know by answering.

I nodded.

Hello? I said into the receiver.

I looked at Jayden and mouthed ‘Sorry’.

She smiled and then went back upstairs.

Okay, give me half an hour.

I hung up the phone and looked at Henry.

Gotta go to work, buddy. Take care of her while I’m out.

He followed her up the stairs.

That’s a good boy.

Two

I once heard a detective say that it seemed like our jobs didn’t start until a life ended. Sadly, for most of my career that’d been the case. The murder rate in D.C. was high, having recently overtaken a homicide record set just the year before. Needless to say, I’d been very busy.

My partner, Detective Pat Jennings, was on a much-needed vacation, so I was riding solo. I’d only gotten the bare minimum of information from the station: a neighbor had reported gunshots from a house three doors down, and when our patrols arrived at the residence, a male and female were discovered dead. Unfortunately, this kind of thing happened a lot in the city, though not in this particular neighborhood.

I turned onto a block that looked like it could have been my street, the homes well-kept and the yards nicely manicured. The outside air was cool but not a reason to wear a jacket. As I stepped into the house, two possibilities crossed my mind: either this was a robbery gone wrong or the whole thing was staged to make it appear as though it was a robbery. Furniture was tossed and everything else had been trashed.

A man wearing blue pajama pants and a white t-shirt, and who looked like he was in his mid-forties, was lying on his back at the base of the staircase with a bullet wound in the center of his forehead. Blood had sprayed across the wall, and there was a dent where he might have fallen against it. As I looked at the dent, I wondered if maybe he had tussled with his killer before being shot.

Detective Hayden, said a uniformed officer.

Watcha got?

"I was the first on the scene. There’s a deceased woman in the upstairs bedroom with a bullet wound to the chest.

I looked at the front door. There were two narrow windows, one either side, the same height as the door. Both were broken, and pieces of wood splintered from around the deadbolt.

Point of entry, I assume, I said.

Looks like it. The front door was partially open when I arrived.

I folded my arms and studied the entrance a little longer. Doesn’t make sense. Why break both windows if you’re just going to break in the door? Kinda takes away the element of surprise.

Maybe they weren’t trying to be subtle.

Maybe not. Have you had a chance to talk to the person who called it in?

Just came from there. The neighbor said this is the Reeves family. Apparently, a six-year-old boy lives here too.

An empty feeling suddenly overcame me.

I didn’t see a boy when I swept the house.

Did you search everywhere?

No, I just cleared it.

How many bedrooms?

Three.

Basement?

A small one.

I looked around the room at the other officers and technicians scouting the crime scene, then placed two fingers in my mouth and whistled louder than I’d ever done before. That got everyone’s attention.

Has anyone seen a little boy about six years old?

I got a few shakes, no.

Okay, priority number one: search the property for a six year old little boy. Some of you take to the neighborhood. I need to know if he’s here, alive or dead.

I turned around and went upstairs to find the boy’s room. Reaching the end of the hallway, I saw that his room had been ransacked like the rest of the house. A twin-sized mattress was tossed off its bedframe. The closet doors were open, and clothes on hangers were on the floor. Seeing the room changed my initial theory; people wouldn’t usually hide valuables in a child’s room, so destroying it for show didn’t make sense. Whoever had broken into the house had been sincerely and specifically looking for something – or someone.

I looked around the room one more time before stepping back into the hallway. I walked to the stairs and had only taken one step down when I heard a faint noise from behind. I turned around, not sure what I’d heard but knowing it was something. For a moment, I debated whether the sound could have come from the officers down below. I’d almost convinced myself when I saw a small table against the wall move, pushed by a part of the wall. I stepped to the table and moved it away. As soon as the table’s pressure was removed, a panel fell from the wall, revealing the little boy sitting inside.

Jesus, I said.

The little boy squinted up at me.

Where’s my daddy? He forgot to get me, The little boy said.

I knelt down and asked, What’s your name?

Benjamin.

Benjamin, did your daddy put you in there?

He nodded. Yes.

I looked down the hallway towards the staircase and realized that the father’s body was still out in the open.

Benjamin, do you want to go to your room?

I want my daddy.

As his eyes became more used to the light in the hallway, he looked at me, confused as to why I was in his house.

Were you one of the men who was talking funny?

Talking funny? Did you see men in your house?

No, I only heard them. They were talking funny.

Like how? Their voices sounded funny? Like Donald Duck kind of funny?

Benjamin smiled a little. No, they weren’t talking English.

I made a mental note of that, then reached to help Benjamin out from the wall.

Let’s go to your room. It got a little messy, but maybe you could help me clean up.

I heard the men in my room with my daddy.

I stood up and walked little Benjamin to his room. His eyes grew wide at the mess.

My daddy did this?

I don’t know, Benjamin. But maybe we should clean it up. What do you think?

He nodded. Where’s Mommy and Daddy?

I looked at Benjamin, standing there in his Spider-Man pajamas, and knew he wasn’t ready to hear the truth. Perhaps I wasn’t either; one of the hardest parts of my job was telling family members that a loved one was dead, and it was something I’d never had to do for a six-year-old.

I’ll see if I can find them.

I started helping Benjamin clean up when a uniformed officer came into the room. I caught him before he said anything, grabbing his arm and walking him into the hallway.

He was hiding in the wall, I whispered. Get Child Protective Services over here, and see if we can do anything with the parents’ bodies. I don’t want him to see them in this state.

The officer nodded and went downstairs. I turned to watch Benjamin attempting to straighten his room.

His life has just been turned upside down.

Three

Two hours later, CPS had taken Benjamin Reeves away and his parents’ bodies had been wrapped up and taken to the morgue. I’d finished looking through the house and was going door to door, speaking with the neighbors. From all accounts, the Reeves family had been a relatively quiet bunch. They hadn’t had many visitors or caused any trouble. Neighbors said that both the parents were scientists and that little Benjamin was getting ready to start the first grade. From the outside they were the perfect family; a title those I talked to seemed happy to apply, though in my experience if something appeared too perfect, the opposite was usually the case.

Two neighbors said they thought they’d seen a black van pulling away from the Reeves’ home shortly after the gunshots, although they didn’t get a look at the driver.

I was in shock, one of the neighbors said. I couldn’t believe that I actually heard gunshots.

I nodded as I took down notes.

At first I thought it was kids playing with firecrackers.

So, the van, I said, was it a large van; a minivan?

Definitely wasn’t a minivan. Looked like a work van, but I didn’t see any logos or anything like that.

By the time I’d finished with the neighbors, the beginnings of the early dawn were starting to sprout. The dark sky was slowly changing color as I headed over to the child and family services building on I Street in southeast D.C. When I got there, Benjamin Reeves was sitting in a cubicle, accompanied by the female agent who had met him at his house. She stood up when she saw me and met me outside of the cubicle.

How’s he doing? I asked.

As well as can be expected.

Does he know yet?

She nodded.

Can I talk with him?

The agent turned around, looking at Benjamin and then back at me.

Go ahead. We’re trying to see if we can find any next of kin, but so far no luck.

I nodded and then went and found a chair, pulling it next to Benjamin.

Hey, Benjamin. Remember me? I asked in a soft, non-threatening tone. I was at your house a little while ago.

Yes, he responded shyly.

Do you mind if I talk to you for a little bit?

He looked at me with big blue eyes and shook his head once.

I know things are a little confusing for you, huh?

Are Mommy and Daddy in Heaven?

Uh, I was caught off guard by the question. Do you want them to be?

Yes.

Then that’s where they are.

Mommy said that one day we’ll all be in Heaven.

Your mommy was a smart lady.

He lowered his head and looked at the floor.

I cleared my throat. Do you remember when you told me that you heard the men talking?

He nodded. Yes.

And you said that you didn’t understand them?

Yes.

They weren’t speaking English?

No.

Do you know what Spanish sounds like?

Yes. It wasn’t Spanish.

"Do you know how many voices