This is the fifth of a series of short stories I am writing this December.
Click here to read the explanation of why I’m writing them.
“Man, if I don’t make a breakthrough on this case soon the Chief is going to draw me a new pair of curtains” I said to myself.
The cigarette smoke haze hanging in the air hadn’t bothered me for the last 20 years, but it was bothering me today.
I uselessly batted away my most recently exhaled cloud so I could stare directly at the map without further interruption.
“There’s got to be something in here, boss” Dan Ellis said from behind me — or Rook as I had been calling him since he started a month ago — “although I’m not seeing it. My drink needs a top-up. Need anything from the break room?” he asked.
“Don’t worry about me, I’ve had enough Coffee to keep me up for the next week, and I can feel my skin crawling. Go get some air, this ain’t going anywhere anytime soon, and maybe it’ll give you a fresh perspective” I heard myself say, but my mind was already elsewhere.
The truth was, I wasn’t a damn dime closer to figuring out who this son-of-a-gun was. Every woman in this city is waiting for me to take this scumbag down so they can feel safe going out again. “There’s got to be a connection here” I said to no one in particular, I’d take an idea from the walls if they had any.
Scanning over the map of the city, the photos of the victims were held in by red push-pins; string taut between them. May Welsh was the first and the worst. I remember it vividly, you’d have to be a heartless deadbeat to forget it. The partners of the law firm she worked for had found her in the office when they opened up in the morning; what was left of her was sprawled out in the middle of the floor. She’d been closing up for the night but hadn’t made it as far as the door, the poor thing.
It was the first dead body Rook had seen up close, and it was a bad one. He damn near vomited directly on the body before we could get a good look at her, and even thinking about the scene now made my stomach turn something fierce.
The doctor surmised that she was dead before he chopped off all her fingers and toes. It’s a small mercy that she was gone before her lips were cut off and her eyes gouged out. The cuts were rushed and crude; obvious to anyone looking from across the room. Either this guy was using a butter knife, or this was his first time, and he had no idea what he was up to.
Whoever this freak is, to do this to a poor thing like May, he must have a rage in him that’s burning him up inside.
I remember telling Rook, “He’s going to want more blood, mark my words”.
God, I wish I had been wrong.
I followed the string from May’s pin over two city blocks on the map, to an alley behind Frank’s Bodega. Pamela Harper was second; brutally taken too early in broad daylight.
It was a couple of days after May; God, the ink was barely dry on my report. Pamela’s body was slumped against the wall this time, obscured partially from view by a dumpster. This devil had removed her fingers, toes, eyes and lips; the same as May. He can’t have had much time because the poor kid who found the body said it was still warm. “He’s mocking us” I muttered under my breath, “it’s like he’s not scared of being caught”.
Following the string again, this time five city blocks, to a hair salon. Savanna Ray and Cindy Landry were killed on the same day at the same time. Each kill was less brutal, like the killer was getting the hang of doing the deed. Having to use less brute force. Knowing where to cut.
“I’m back” Rook said behind me.
I hadn’t heard him come back, and I damn near turned around and shot him out of shock.
“You doing alright, boss?” he asked, presumably noticing all the colour had drained from my face.
“Yeah kid” I mumbled, “you just caught me deep in my own thoughts”.
Pausing to sigh deeply, “I’m as good as I can be knowing we are no closer to finding this guy”.
“What links the victims together?” I continued.
“From talking to their acquaintances, they don’t seem to have known each other.
Did they know our killer?
Was it random?
There doesn’t seem to be anything in common with the sites”.
Pointing at the locations on the map, “you’ve got a top-notch lawyers office, a dirty alley, and a fancy salon. You couldn’t get three more distinct places”.
“Boss” Rook said, nodding towards the door.
Porter stood there, he rapped his knuckles against the door frame pointlessly.
“You’re not going to like this” he said, eyes avoiding mine.
“God, no” Rook gasped.
Porter nodded slowly, “they’ve found another one. Three this time”.
