This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Copyright © 2021 by Kahilah Harry
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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: [email protected]
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FIRST EDITION
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Book design by Damonza.com
Editors: Rarebirdediting.com
Jessi Elliott
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ISBN 978-1-7368459-0-5 (paperback)
ISBN 978-1-7368459-2-9 (ebook)
ISBN 978-1-7368459-1-2 (hardcover)
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www.kahilahharry.com
To myself. Congrats, you’re officially a published author.
1
“This is the fifth murder this week, and we still have no witnesses or credible evidence. We can’t let boss give the case to someone else,” Caspian spoke as we walked away from the body.
I ran my hand through my curly auburn hair. “Which is why I’ve been working on some leads of my own.” I grabbed the coffee he bought me out of his hand.
His pale blue eyes widened as he took a sip of his own coffee. “Excuse me? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“Cas, don’t start. I’ll be okay.” I sighed and placed a reassuring hand on his arm.
“Yeah, until you end up like this guy.” He nodded to the corpse on the ground as one of our guys placed a white sheet over it.
“I won’t end up like him, Cas. Trust me, okay?” I smiled at his grim scowl. He wasn’t going to continue this conversation. Linking my arm through his, I led us to our precinct SUV. Caspian was upset about me taking the investigation into my own hands, so it was a quiet ride toward headquarters.
“What if something happens and I can’t save you this time, Meadow?” Caspian finally said.
I frowned at him. Like I actually needed saving. Okay, maybe I needed a tiny bit of help, but I didn’t need him bringing it up every time I wanted to take risks.
“Yeah, yeah, let’s not talk about that. You’re so negative. I’m going to solve this case so it isn’t taken away from us. Also, I need closure. We need it. I’m going to need your help in achieving this, okay?” I pleaded with him with my eyes.
He glanced at me and sighed heavily. Once I set my mind on something, it rarely changed, especially in a situation where my pride was involved.
We arrived at headquarters and separated to our own offices and piles of evidence. At my desk, I went through everything I’d found. All five bodies had one thing in common: they were unusually pale. As if the bodies had been sitting out in the open for a while, even though they were usually fresh by the time we got to them. Caspian told me it was normal, but I did my research, and it wasn’t. The paleness might be a part of the killer’s M.O. If I found out why, I might be able to narrow down how all five victims were murdered.
I needed way more evidence for my theory to be convincing. Once the M.E. sent the C.O.D., it’d definitely narrow it down.
Ugh. I hated depending on others for information. I needed my own now, or I was going to burst. I tapped my pen against my face, trying to connect the dots of this case.
All males. Different hair color and height.
All abnormally pale for a freshly deceased person.
All male, all pale.
I didn’t mean to rhyme, but it gave me an idea.
I jumped out of my chair and headed toward the one place that guaranteed answers. The cold case section. The place I wasn’t supposed to enter without the okay of a higher up. It was a little room with boxes of unsolved, old—super old—cases. I greeted the other employees as I walked quickly to the large room before anyone could stop me.
Shutting the door softly behind me, I turned on the light. Old, dusty boxes, just crying out to be solved, surrounded me. I scanned for one that may have something to do with a pale murder. Or something like that. After about an hour, one caught my eye. I wiped the dust off the label.
Ghost murders.
I almost let out a squeal but remembered to be discreet. Eager to search its contents, I placed the box on the floor, not sure if I was ready for what waited for me in the files. Before I opened it, I checked to make sure no one was coming my way or patrolling the hallways. Once I was sure I was safe, I opened the box and dropped the lid. I thumbed through the massive number of unsolved murders in the box, and my heart squeezed with pain. There were hundreds of files. Hundreds of people with no closure.
I passed my hand over the tops of the files, sad for everyone involved and all the time spent trying to find answers. Filled with new confidence and determination, I searched each file for clues. A super thick file close to the middle had more odd similarities to my current case than the others.
The similarities sent a cold shiver down my spine. In the cold case, the victim had no identification on him, but had a cross carved into his wrist. Male and abnormally pale. I slammed the file shut. But how? How was this possible?
The case was almost identical to mine.
I needed to get to the morgue and inspect my John Doe’s wrist. I shook my head, trying to keep my mind from jumping to too many conclusions.
The date on the back of the file read 1995. Another file that read 2008 was basically like reading the first file. Male, pale skin, engraved cross. I selected two more random files. 1983, 1977. Same thing. The whole box had 100 plus records dating all the way back to 1866. All of them said the same thing on the medical examiner’s report.
“No, no way. No way,” I whispered. All of these murders were basically identical, and none of them had any leads. Not one. So many questions, and I needed more information. More answers.
I grabbed the oldest file, 1866, and the most recent file, 2008, and placed the rest in the box and the box back on the shelf. Now to get out of here without getting caught by anyone.
I hurried out, closing the door softly behind me, and rushed toward my office.
I turned the corner and ran straight into my boss. Duke’s kind brown eyes widened as he steadied me. We both bent to retrieve the files that flew out of my arms.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry! Don’t worry about these, I got them.”
He picked up both files anyway and studied the labels. Kneading the space between his eyes, he sighed heavily and looked up at me with accusing eyes. “Meadow—”
“I know! I know! You told me to wait until the M.E.’s report came in and for you to come up with a theory before I go snooping in the cold cases, but I couldn’t help myself.”
He scratched his sandy-blond head and smiled, handing the files back to me.
I looked at him quizzically, waiting for his standard speech. When I tugged on the files, he held them tight.
“Look, Meadow.” Here we go. “Whatever you get from this, it better be good, got it?” He smiled, so I knew I was off the hook.
I smiled back. “Got it, boss. Thanks.”
He let go of the files, and I hurried into my office. I flopped down in my comfortable, bouncy chair, fingers itching to go through the archives I uncovered.
“What are you getting yourself into this time, Meadow?”
My eyes snapped up, scanning my office. I didn’t see anyone. I could’ve sworn I heard someone speak.
“Hello?” I stood, confused. I went to my office door, opening it. No one was there. Peeking out just a bit, I scoped out the hallway, but it was empty. Hm. Closing the door, I went back to my chair.
�
��Meadow.”
I sat up straight, rubbing the goosebumps suddenly peppering my arms.
“Caspian, is that you? I don’t have time for games right now!” I listened for a response. I checked my office for hidden bugs, recorders, or anything like that. Nothing. Sitting back down, I shook my head.
“Now I’m imagining things,” I muttered. It had been a stressful day. After a few hours of digging into the files, my brain felt fried.
6:43 p.m. Time to go anyway.
During my drive home, I couldn’t help thinking about the creepy voice in my head. It was crazy, but I wasn’t actually sure if it was all in my head or not. Maybe it was Caspian playing a trick on me again, and I just didn’t find the device. Or him. I chuckled. Of course, that was it. I tapped the speaker icon on the smart screen of my car.
“Call Caspian.”
“What?” Caspian’s voice came through my car with a hint of annoyance.
“Grumpy.”
“I need sleep. But boss isn’t done going over evidence.”
“I totally understand. I’m sorry, Cas. I’m on the way to my house now.” I paused, wondering how to bring it up without sounding weird or crazy. “So today, something strange happened to me in my office.” I bit my lip.
“Mhm, what happened?” Caspian sounded distracted. Keyboard keys clacked in the background. That might be a good thing, so he didn’t realize how crazy I sounded.
“Well, I was about to start going through some clues I found today when suddenly, I heard someone say my name. I think it was like a whole sentence, I’m not actually sure. But I definitely heard my name.”
My engine hummed in the silence between us. I glanced at my smart screen to see if the call dropped. Caspian’s name was still on display, and the time continued.
“Hello? Caspian?”
More shuffling, and then his voice came through. “I think you cut out. You heard your name in your office?”
I sighed, not really wanting to repeat myself. “Yes, and the voice was deep. Like yours. Were you hiding somewhere in my office? Or had a mic or recorder or something, trying to scare me? Because it definitely spooked me out.”
Caspian cursed, followed by a loud thump on his side. Then silence.
“Cas, was it you or not? I heard you curse, so to me, that’s you admitting. So just say it.” There was no way it was anyone else besides him. Right?
He cleared his throat. “It wasn’t me. Maybe you were daydreaming or something.”
I rolled my eyes. I’d expected him to say something like that. “Okay, whatever. Thanks for the help.” I hung up on him. Even though he said it wasn’t him, I didn’t really believe it.
I reached my loft and inside, I took off my gun and the holster, placed it in its designated cubby on the wall, and strolled to the kitchen.
I stretched and ran both of my hands through my hair, massaging my scalp. I really needed a spa day. Tension had my muscles bunched everywhere. Opening my fridge, I reached for a carton of orange juice.
A prickling sensation tripped along the back of my neck, and I quickly straightened up. Someone was in my loft.
2
Walking into my living room, I passed my hand over the head of the black couches. Nothing looked out of place. I fluffed one of my black pillows and was about to go back to the kitchen when the prickling sensation returned. I froze. Clenching my hands into fists, I tried to calm my rapidly beating heart as I prepared to defend myself.
“Whoever you are, I want you to know that I have a gun in my waistband, and I will shoot you if you don’t leave right now,” I lied.
I listened for breathing and didn’t hear anything, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was there. I counted to three in my head and whipped around with my fists up, ready to attack, but abruptly froze mid-swing.
A stranger loomed in front of me, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t move. Not an inch.
“Meadow.”
My heart rate spiked at the bass of his voice. He stood quite a few inches taller than my 5’8” height. I had to bend my head back uncomfortably to look at him properly. He wore an all-black suit with black shoes. His inky black hair was slicked back stylishly, and his piercing gray eyes bored into my soul. His eyes nor his face held a hint of any emotion, his face stern and stoic as if he rarely smiled.
The pressure of a force holding me in place dissipated, so I took a cautious step back.
“Who are you, and how do you know my name?” My eyes flitted around the room, looking for the best escape route. He was blocking the quickest path to the front door.
His eyes followed every move I made, and his eyebrows scrunched in confusion at my question. I started inching forward. A plan started to form.
“You really don’t remember me?” He didn’t react to my moving toward my front door. Now my back was facing the door.
I tilted my head, shaking it side to side.
The stranger turned and faced my new position, his features hard as stone. He had a little black cross dangling from his right earlobe. The left ear had a simple black stud. The cross was an intricate shape, and it looked familiar.
He stalked toward me as slowly as I moved toward my gun.
“Looking for this?” He tilted his head and tossed my gun aside.
I expected it to hit my couch with a muted thump, but it disappeared before it landed. My jaw dropped, and I gasped. My eyes were wide as I stared at the stranger, fear seeping from every pore in my body. I couldn’t stop shaking. How in the world did that gun disappear into thin air? How did he get into my loft?
“What are you?” I whispered.
Mr. Stranger locked his gray eyes to my hazel ones and started walking toward me again, taking his sweet time. I didn’t even realize he had stopped, I was so caught up in my thoughts. I tried to take a step backward, but for some reason, I couldn’t move. I watched in fear as he came closer, with a curiously intent look on his face.
He stopped when he was literally toes away from me. Still immobile, I could only watch as he raised his hand and slowly brought it to my cheek, resting it there. A warmth spread through it, leaving me with a tingling sensation.
“How do you not remember?” He whispered and squinted at me, trailing his fingers down my cheek. The warmth turned into a chill.
The chill moved from my cheek to my chest. I tried to make a sound, but I couldn’t. My breathing sped up. He leaned in close to my face and stared deeply into my eyes. Suddenly, he smiled a cruel smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Well, I’ll handle this later.” He stood up straight and crossed his arms over his chest. “I can’t have you remembering this and alerting that dreadful Caspian, so to sleep you go.” He reached out his arm and tapped my forehead.
The last thought that crossed my mind was to warn Caspian.
My room wouldn’t stop spinning. It was the weirdest feeling. Usually, if a room was spinning, I’d feel nauseous, but I didn’t feel anything. I felt hollow. Different. Like part of me was missing. I stared at my black and white spotted ceiling until the odd feeling went away.
The last thing I remembered was going in my fridge for some orange juice. I massaged my temple to try to help myself remember more.
Nothing.
I guess I was so tired I fell asleep…in my work clothes. I hopped out of bed. A wave of dizziness hit me, and I stretched my arms out to steady myself. Once I felt balanced enough, I trudged to my bathroom.
“Oh, mercy,” I groaned, passing a hand over my face. The woman in the mirror looked nothing like me with her pale brown complexion and smudged eyeliner. “Pull yourself together, Meadow.”
First, I needed a quick shower to wash away this stressful day and help clear my head so I could look at the files with a fresh mind. As I went through my nightly routine, a blurry image hovered on the edge of my mind, but every time I closed my eyes to focus on it, the image disappeared, leaving me with a sense of emptiness. More than that was this nagging feeling that
I forgot something important.
It’ll come to me eventually. I pushed those thoughts away, grabbed my files from the dresser, and sat on my bed. The business card someone left on my desk a week ago taunted me. It was blank on the back and the front only had a question and a phone number.
“Yes, I do want answers,” I said to no one as I gave in and called the number. Less than ten minutes later, after the most cryptic phone call of my life, I had a meeting set up and a plan of action. I flipped through the recent files and saw nothing about a cross on the wrist. Only no identification, abnormally pale skin, and male victims.
I huffed and opened the cold case files, hoping they would give me more insight. As I scanned the pages, I started noticing specifics, like the engraved cross on the victims’ right hand. I went back to the recent files—no medical examiner’s report for the first four murders. I should’ve had those reports by now.
I groaned and tossed the files to the side on my bed and leaned back on my pillows, tracing a crack in my headboard as I brainstormed about what I could do.
Wait.
I shot up in bed. Caspian should have the reports. He told me he would get the reports and give me the copies. This could be the missing link I needed. Excited, I grabbed my phone and dialed his number, tapping on my bed, anxious for him to pick up the phone.
It went to voicemail.
3
I arrived at headquarters, glancing at my watch as I made my way to Caspian’s office. Perfect, I had enough time to speak to him before I left for my meeting. He was so deep into whatever he was doing on his computer he didn’t even realize I was standing there.
“Ahem.”
He jumped in his chair, his blonde hair falling in his face. “Geez, May. Ever heard of knocking?” He adjusted his shirt and leaned back, gesturing to the seats in front of his desk.
Souls Page 1