Iname

By Devon Callahan

Los Angeles California is affected by the prearranged events of a female serial killer. She has sex with men and then kills them. She leaves no clues or indicators except for toe tags labeled I-Name. Star Detective Shannon Lyles is on the case but it is hard to catch the killer as she follows no specific pattern. The victims have nothing in common.

Shannon Lyles, Californias star detective makes the ultimate sacrifice to get to the top. He sacrifices his wife to make detective first grade. The killings stop and the newly single parent (Lyles) is transferred to Washington D.C. Shortly after he gets settled, the killer returns with the same pattern as in Los Angeles. Matt, a loyal employee at a prominent university in Washington, is killed. Three women are interviewed and considered as suspects. Lyles is so dedicated to catching this killer that he overlooks his daughter and the social issues that she suffers from. But as time goes on, his partner Jimmy uncovers Lyles past and Lyles becomes the number one suspect in the murders. It is now up to the rookie to confirm Lyles's innocence or prove his guilt.

Sexy and Seductive, I-Name will take you for a full ride!

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jul 10, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504903486

Devon Callahan

Ten years in the game, I have been in clubs and poetry hot spots, and I have interviewed. The one thing I carry forward is humility. I am as big as others determine me to be. Maybe I’m too much sometimes, but all I know how to do is be myself. I won’t compromise who I am, and maybe that is why I am where I am now. I haven’t lived in the district, but I still have a love for the city—my city. There are lots of stories to tell about the Chocolate City, and I’m going to tell them. I served in the military for almost twenty years, and I’m proud of every minute served. There’s no better feeling than when you give. Looking to do something different in the future, I’m looking into the career of screenwriting. We will see what happens with that. Don’t be surprised if your favorite story comes to life. The best advice I can give anyone on life is to never give up and do whatever it is that you love to do. Let nothing get in your way. Tomorrow is not promised. Continue to read and continue to love. Titles: Nappy Is Good (2005) Fire and Rain (2006) The 13th Round (2011) Nappy Is Better (2012) e-Book INAME (2015)

Book preview

One

S hannon Lyles watched the flat screen. In Southern California, there appeared to be at least hundreds gathered in protest against illegal immigration. There were angry people of all shapes, sizes and colors. The reporter worked the crowd for opinions.

We are looking at least two million illegal immigrants that come across the borders and the government won’t do anything about it. The government won’t stop them and it becomes the burden of the U. S. citizens – we are the taxpayers!

Another said, It’s not fair. We have to assume the responsibilities while our taxes go up. Crime rates are affected – go up higher. Our education systems are affected, and finally, medical rates and policies are affected.

One man was so mad that he was waving his fist in the air. Four to six million is what we spend yearly for schools, prisons and medical. This budget crisis is draining us all.

One middle-aged lady was soft-spoken, but her arguments were loud enough for all to hear. We have issues over here with our own people. They don’t even get the assistance that the illegal immigrants get. It’s not fair. They get any public service available but we can’t. What the hell is up with that? I mean, whose Country is it anyway?

The scene changed. The anchorpersons had resumed their report. Many say that the immigration reform and protest stem from 1996. Many remember the financial state our country was in ten years ago. Proposition 187 is back. Many Americans call it the scapegoat for the economic crisis –

Shannon changed the channel. He was unsure what he wanted to look at, but he’d certainly had enough of watching the coverage on the immigration riots. Shannon went back in time. He could remember when he and his family had first moved to California. It used to be a social melting pot. Now, it was nothing more than the center of racial discrimination. He looked at the packing boxes that were filled to the top. Yep, he thought, Cali ain’t what is used to be. But it didn’t matter anymore. By the next week, the movers would have packed everything up. Shannon and his daughter would be on their way.

The single parent pushed himself from the dining table and came to his feet carefully. He was vivacious and energetic when he had first moved to the Sunshine State thirteen years ago. He had a head full of hair; now he wore his hair short because he was balding on the top. He weighed 169 pounds back then, but had since gained about 30 more pounds. Even with the weight gain, he was still desirable. Women thought he was an item. He was very easy on the eye. But he had a very modest personality; most of the time he was unaware of his good looks.

The doorbell rang and in no time at all, he could hear the alarm system chirping. Shannon looked at his watch. Can’t be anybody but Javier, he thought. I told her how I felt about that boy. She wouldn’t listen. Shannon decided not to push. Pushing only pushes your loved one in the opposite direction. His daughter would have to learn for herself. It will pass. This thing with her and this Hispanic boy won’t last long – it can’t. Look at the news. There is too much going on right now. That is what Shannon thought to himself, but when the relationship between Javier and his daughter exceeded its life expectancy, her father grew more concerned.

He remembered sitting her down one night before having dinner. Oh gosh, what is it, Dad?

Shannon chuckled. Give me more credit.

I’m just saying, Dad, when you sit me down like this at the dinner table, you usually want to give me some kind of advice about something that is going to ruin my life forever.

Shannon looked his daughter in the face carefully. He was reminded how important his daughter was to him. She was precious. She was a jewel. She had soft features that made her irresistible. All through school she was the teacher’s favorite. Her brown eyes read compassion and her perfectly etched facial features were affable. Her black hair looked wet most of the time even when it was dry – long and wavy. People were often confused when they looked at the fairly attractive teenager. Shannon was African-American and her mother was Panamanian. The mix produced a beautiful child.

Daddy, what it is?

Shannon smiled and came back to reality. This boy, Jose –

Ha-vee-air. Javier, Daddy.

Okay, yeah, whatever you just said his name is.

Tressa began to huff. She was instantly frustrated. She knew where this conversation was going, where her dad was taking it. Go ahead, Daddy.

Well it’s just – I’m saying that you might want to be careful. I just want you to take your time.

What’s wrong with him?

Well, I don’t know him, but I do know that when you are in interracial relationships, there are unwanted things that go with the territory.

What, Daddy, like people making racial jokes?

Well, that’s only one of them. Right now it’s a war going on, baby, and right now, some people do not agree with – How do his parents feel about it? He quickly changed gears.

Well, they are cool with it, I guess. She shook her head in disbelief. I can’t believe that we are having this conversation. She smiled and bit her bottom lip at the same time.

I’m just asking. How do you know that his parents are okay with the idea? Is that what you know or is that what he told you?

I know, Daddy. Not everyone is like you.

Shannon felt a warm sensation around the collar. How can you say that? Your mother was Hispanic. He frowned.

And you always talk about how much of a challenge it was, Tressa said defensively.

Shannon was determined to stay on course with the conversation. You say that you know. So have you gone to his house? Have you met his parents?

She looked down shyly. Well, no. But that is totally beside –

Exactly. You’ve never been to his house, so how would you know what they think of you and the idea of mixing races?

Daddy, she pleaded.

The paternal figure took a deep breath. Okay, all I’m saying is that men are like… a pair of shoes. You have to keep trying them on until you find the right pair that fits. Now keep in mind that over the next few years your feet will grow and your tastes in shoes will change. But when you mature, your feet will stop growing and you will be stuck at that shoe size for several years. You will go out one day and you will find the right pair of shoes, a pair that is unique. No one has them but you.

So they are original? Tressa asked.

They are original, but you like them so much and you will want to wear them with everything. When they are new, you love them. When they get old, you will love them even more. Shannon put his hand on his daughter’s leg. I’m just saying, don’t get too serious. You have years ahead of you. You won’t know what you like until you’ve had other things to compare with. It won’t last anyway. It can’t, Shannon thought.

Three months later and Javier was still showing up every morning at 7:45 sharp to pick Shannon’s daughter up for school. I don’t see why she just couldn’t continue with riding the school bus.

Shannon walked into the living room. Tressa and Javier were speaking in Spanish to one another. Ironically, Tressa and Javier met in Spanish class. They were smiling gleefully until the Mexican boy saw Shannon. Javier quickly dropped the conversation to speak his respects. El dia, sir.

Shannon tipped his head back to acknowledge the young man.

Javier looked around the room. So how is the packing coming?

Good. It’s coming along… Two weeks… That’s it. Shannon smiled. Two weeks and my daughter will be away from you.

Washington, D.C. is where you are going, right?

Yeah, for who knows what, Tressa said angrily as she gathered her things. But she knew why they were leaving. Tressa put her things down and started to throw one of her tantrums. She stomped twice and poked her lips out. I don’t see why I can’t just stay here.

Calmly, Shannon said, Where I go, you do.

"I could just stay here with Auntie Chris. You can go to D.C."

Baby, you and Jose are going to be late.

Tressa looked at her boyfriend sharply. Don’t let him mispronounce your name. He knows what your name is; stand up for yourself.

Javier said nothing, just turned in the opposite direction. I’m not getting in the middle of this, he thought.

We discussed this already, Tressie.

And for what, why are we leaving? We are leaving for that stupid job. She looked at Javier and turned to point swiftly at her father. That stupid job; that is all he cares about.

A digital ringer could be heard about. Shannon patted his waist, looking for his cell phone. Tressa already knew where to find it: it was on the coffee table closest to the front door. It’s over here, Daddy. She met him in the middle. She looked at the display before handing it off. She hissed and turned her head in disgust. It’s your job. She walked off and threw up both of her hands. Looking at Javier, she said, You see what I mean?

Shannon could hear his wife saying, It’s always your fucking job. I hate that job. You don’t give a damn about Tressie and me. Every got-damned thing comes before your job.

He pressed the talk button. The kids were on their way out the front door. Shannon could hear his boss saying, You better get down here. You don’t want to miss this one. It’s serious. Old Hotel on Century, down the street from LAX.

Shannon pressed the button to end the call. He looked at the front door and thought, And you still have not been to his house.

Two

S hannon walked through the open door of hotel room 205. The chief had been waiting for him. Shannon looked around the room. The Grand Lux Hotel was a place known for a cheap stay, mainly for people that needed a place to crash between flights. People that lived north of the beach would drive out the night before and stay when they had an early morning departure.

So what do we have? Shannon asked.

One of the maids found him. The reception clerk says that he checked in last night, early… about seven.

Shannon pulled out his notepad. Okay.

Simon Edgars is the guy’s name. He’s mid-forties, according to his driver’s license. He worked in Torrance at a fiber optics company and he stayed in a one-bedroom apartment off of La Cienaga, over there in Inglewood.

That’s right down the street.

Chief smiled. Well, it seems our friend here was into some freaky shit. It looks like he checked in and invited some chick up to his room, and they got it on and it got a little dangerous.

What do you mean?

Chief pointed to an object on the floor next to the victim. See that over there, that plastic bag? Well, it seems that he was suffocated.

She suffocated him?

Well, yeah, but I don’t think she did it on purpose.

Shannon rubbed his beard. He was puzzled. You don’t think she did it on purpose? How do we know that?

Confidently, the chief explained, Erotic asphyxiation, my boy. He liked it rough.

Erotic asphyxiation, Shannon repeated. Wait, isn’t that where they have sex and get choked in the process?

Chief nodded. Yeah, it’s the intentional restriction of oxygen for sexual arousal. Most of the time it’s the woman that likes to get choked while climaxing. It’s exciting to some, but it can be very lethal.

Okay, I got you. I know what you’re talking about, just didn’t know what to call it. That is some sick shit if you ask me.

Yeah, but it depends on who you ask. I mean, some people really get into this stuff. I have heard of people using breath control by a gas mask, a wet piece of leather, and even a dog collar.

A plastic bag, Shannon concluded.

Oh yeah, my boy, it gives the same effect. The trick is to restrict enough oxygen while climaxing to the point where you feel high and then you release constriction. He pointed at the victim. But sometimes it doesn’t happen that way.

Shannon squatted next to the victim while Chief walked around to the other side. The victim was too close to the bed for Chief to squat. Shannon looked at the man. Like Chief said, he looked like he was in his mid-forties. He was a clean cut-gentleman. He was of average height and packed a lot of weight. Shannon looked around the room and everything seemed to be intact. No lamps were broken. Nothing seemed far out of place.

Shannon lifted the cloth and folded it to one side. He used a probe to lift the victim’s hands so that he could examine the fingernails. He didn’t find any obvious remnants, or appendages of skin. No signs of a struggle. Shannon sighed as he covered the body. He rose to his feet and dusted his hands on his slacks. What do we have? How hard will it be to find the person who did it?

Well, there are no prints on the body so whomever did this was wearing gloves – she probably had on some weird outfit or something.

So we do know it was a she?

Yep, vaginal traces were found on him. Like I said, they were having sex and then we found him. Some things just don’t add up. Like, how come he didn’t take off the bag before he passed out?

Well, maybe he didn’t know he was about to pass out, or maybe it was too late by the time it registered to him, Shannon suggested.

The chief frowned. Well, I guess. My primary concern is… Pull up that sheet again.

Shannon did as the chief directed him. Chief walked to the same side as Shannon and the men squatted next to the body. They paid special attention to the victim’s neck. The two men looked at each other. They had found what they were looking for. There were rings around Mr. Edgar’s neck, which suggested force.

Chief looked at Shannon. I would say that there was another person present, wouldn’t you?

I would probably say so.

Look at him. He didn’t fall to his back, he was placed there. If you look at his knees, he has rug burn, which means that he was on top of her. If you look at his neck, you will see marks around the front of his neck and not the back. Someone was holding that bag around his neck to suffocate him and that person was standing behind him.

But we saw no signs of a struggle.

Chief shrugged his shoulders. "Well, sure… No signs of struggle at first. That was his thing. He wanted that bag over his head, but I bet you he tried to take the bag off before losing total consciousness."

And when he went to take it off, someone was behind him pulling on the bag, Shannon concluded.

Had to be, because the woman he was banging couldn’t have done it – not while having sex on her back, anyway. Matter of fact, reach over there and grab that plastic bag.

Shannon did. He opened the bag and rotated it as he examined every inch. I’ll be damned… I see the stretch marks on the plastic. You were right.

Shannon wrote up his report and waited for the lab results. It was an unchanging routine. At times he loved what he did, and other times he cringed when it was time to come in. Criminal Investigations Unit wanted him from the time they saw him. Chief Mann met him at a social one night after work. It was no big deal. It was just a social hour, a couple of beers amongst a few blue-suiters. Shannon was into his job like no one else. He was that fair kind of cop. He gave breaks every now and then to people that he knew deserved them. He didn’t have a lot of friends and he didn’t hang out too often. He didn’t want to get too close to any of the other officers on the force. The Los Angeles Police Department had an immense reputation for being one of the most tainted organizations around. And because he knew this, he wanted to stay clean. He didn’t get mixed in the gossip, and he didn’t ask a lot of questions about other cases. The way he saw it, the more he knew, the more he would be responsible for. Chief liked this because Shannon would not be bribed or easily influenced.

When Chief saw Shannon at the social, he wasted no time in making an introduction. The chief offered to send him to school and later try him on a case. It had been two years since his first case. It was a while ago, but Shannon would never forget.

It was March 5th, and it was a raining. There were roadblocks everywhere. Shannon would slow to the barriers and then show his badge to get through. The blue-suit cop directed him. About two minutes later, he met with another roadblock. It had been a busy day and this made it no better. He wasn’t a big coffee drinker, but it was 57 degrees out; that was considered cold for Southern California. Even if it hadn’t been raining out, you would see practically every passer-by wearing a jacket. Some even had on coats.

Shannon slowed for the next roadblock and looked down at the huge coffee stain that covered his shirt pocket. It’s okay, Shannon, no one will even know that the stain exists once you put on your sport coat. Shannon nodded as if to agree with himself. He flashed his badge and stated his business once more, and was cleared to the entrance of the private community.

This was a sad day for NFL fans around the country. Eli Tibets was dead and it was Shannon’s first case. He couldn’t mess this one up. He would have to find the killer. He hadn’t even met the family yet, but he could still see faces as he drove. Shannon told himself that he would do everything in his power to see that justice was served.

The windshield wipers made that annoying sound, like someone was wiping a dry mirror with a damp towel. The newly made detective turned the wipers down a speed. At the front gate there was a guard and three uniformed cops. Lyles – Detective Shannon Lyles, I am here to investigate the Tibets case.

One man took the badge and held it up to eye-level. He returned the badge after strict examination. Detective Lyles, they are expecting you at 105 Dorsey Street. The cop turned to the left and prepared to give directions. Just go up to the top of the hill and turn right. That is Dorsey Street. Mr. Eli’s house is the third one on the left.

Shannon thanked the cop and proceeded up the hill. He was very nervous even though there would be someone else there to assist him and Chief would be there. Shannon became hopeful. He would not stop until the case was cracked wide open. He owed it to the family and the sports fans everywhere.

The community was small; there were only about twenty-five homes throughout. But though the community was small in number, it was large in size. Each home had at least two additional homes situated on the land. Some of the people had a large home in the front and what looked like a guest home, Olympic-sized pools and maybe a tennis court, basketball court, or both. It was hard to see what was sitting on Eli Tibets’ property with all the media, neighbors and fans that stood in front. Some were angry, some were crying and some didn’t care, they just wanted a story to print. Fucking vultures, Shannon thought. The young detective wanted to shove the microphone up one reporter’s nose. What are you doing? Why don’t you let this man rest in peace? he scolded as he made his way to the front door of the house.

Inside, the chief was waiting for him. Chief, what do we have?

Where have you been? Get in here.

Shannon picked up a light jog.

Now this is bad. I mean really bad. Now people are going to want an explanation, my boy, and we have to give it to them and we don’t have long to give it to them.

Right, Chief, Shannon acknowledged.

Now apply all that stuff you learned and tell me what you think when you see this shit.

Shannon braced himself as Chief took him through what seemed like a maze: they went through a kitchen, formal dining room, living room and then finally the place where it all happened – the bedroom.

Shannon walked inside and almost turned around to walk out when he saw the crime scene. He covered his nose and mouth with the bottom of his necktie. He squeezed his eyes shut. Chief laughed. When Shannon got himself together, he looked up and said, Got-damn, Chief.

Pull yourself together. We got work to do, my boy.

Whatever other evidence lay around, it was impossible to ignore the obvious defecation that had taken place on Mr. Tibets’ chest. Man, are you fucking serious? Who would do something like this?

I told you to get your head together. Now get over there and tell me what happened.

Shannon concentrated on the victim, trying his best to ignore the smell. Sizing up the scene and forming his general impression, he was looking at a fully naked man, with a ring around his penis and a dog collar around his neck. His mechanisms and senses were kicking in and he had become comfortable there. This was his crime scene. Shannon started at the top and worked his way down. Chief turned on the recorder. Face pale, oxygen deprivation. Neck: dog collar, obviously the mechanism of death. He looked at Chief. What did Forensics say about prints, DNA or any other traceable evidence that could link us with the killer?

No prints, and there were vaginal traces and dried secretion from both the killer and the victim.

Shoulders, nothing. Shannon picked up Eli’s wrists and examined them one at a time. He looked up at Chief. He had on restraints. They were taken off.

Chief smiled. Shannon was doing well. Chief watched as Shannon looked at the victim’s fingernails. Shannon had made a discovery. He looked on the floor where Eli’s left hand had been and felt the floor with his fingertips, then looked at the man’s fingernails once more. There are fine shavings of wood under his fingernails. Shannon looked puzzled. Strike what I just said. There were no physical restraints. His arms were held down against his will.

The detective quickly moved to the man’s lower extremities, looking at the back of his feet and legs. The heels of his feet are scraped. He looked at the floor and then he looked around the room. He came to his feet and walked the room, looking for evidence of a female presence. Tibets lived alone but Shannon looked for a bottle of perfume, feminine toiletries, even a hair pin. He just wanted to find anything that didn’t fit. He found nothing. He looked at the bed and it had not been touched.

Chief smiled and was ready. Okay, my boy. Let’s hear it.

Okay. Our pro star here was having sex before he died. He was into the erotic pleasure, hence the dog collar. Either she got off on watching him gasp for air, or he liked to feel that high while he climaxed. No doubt, she knew how to do it for him. Shannon watched as Chief nodded. He continued his explanation. She cuffed his hands so that he could not move, and he was into it. She had mild tension on the collar, turning one or both of them on. For some men it is an instant turn-on when the woman is the aggressor. Some men are into submission, where they let the woman take charge.

You are going places, my boy.

"Sometimes these episodes include mild torture – spanking and even oxygen deprivation – making the participant feel like they are being punished. In his case, urolagnia, or the enjoyment of being urinated upon – he was urinated upon, which was a part of the whole domination play. So obviously this man and this woman were parphiliacs, people that enjoy sexual acts that are not usually associated with normal sex patterns. His hands were voluntarily bound as a part of the domination process. It is used to intentionally restrain the person so that they have no physical control. Things were well until she went too far – she pulled tighter on the collar while on top of him while he fought and kicked his feet. She kept pulling tighter until he was dead."

Chief was impressed. And the defecation, how do you explain that?

"Well, that is easy. The defecation was merely a prank, like, you like to get pissed on, tell me how it feels to get shitted on."

Very good, my boy, Chief exclaimed. He is going to be just fine. I knew that I picked him for a reason. I knew that he was the one.

Shannon called his first case clear and precise. All were impressed with him. He was known for cracking that first case. From there, his expertise climbed to a level of excellence. They hated to see him go, but he had to go. He was being transferred.

Shannon could never forget his first case, even if he tried. It was March 5. He remembered getting direction to the address, house number 105. Shannon felt a sensation. He couldn’t explain what it felt like, but it was different. Number 105 was the address to his first case, but today’s crime was at room number 205. His first case was on March 5. Shannon looked at his watch. I’ll be got-damned. Today is the fifth. Shannon was still unsure if these were the only connectors to the two cases. What else connects the two cases? he thought.

Confidently, the chief explained. Erotic asphyxiation, my boy. He liked it rough.

Erotic asphyxiation, he repeated. Wait, isn’t that where they have sex and get choked in the process?

Chief nodded. Yeah, it’s the intentional restriction of oxygen for sexual arousal. Most of the time it’s the woman that likes to get choked while climaxing. It’s exciting to some, but it can be very lethal.

"Okay, I got you. I