by Jacey Ward
Swallowing hard, Sasha felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead as she crouched behind one of the large rubbish bins, not able to discover where the man was. The darkness would be equally helpful for him though, she supposed.
Did he mean that he had someone working with him? Were there two of them searching for her? Or did he mean actual physical weapons, like firepower or knives?
Moving away from the bins, she looked around but saw very little. The alley was poorly lit anyway, but from what she remembered, there weren’t a lot of places to hide.
Should she run?
The thought was dismissed almost immediately. She was closer to the killer than she’d ever been, and she wasn’t about to let him intimidate her into running away.
Clenching her jaw, Sasha pressed her back against the wall and tried to listen for any kind of sound. Whatever happened, she was determined to bring the killer to justice. Running away from him, even to call for assistance, simply wasn’t an option. He’d managed to avoid them once, and she guessed he’d be easily able to do it again.
No, she had to stand her ground and face him. She wasn’t going to think about the other victims or let the fear of what he could do to her stop her from carrying out her duties as an officer of the law.
Minutes ticked by with an agonizing slowness, as Sasha slowly moved forward from behind the bin, her eyes searching for any kind of clue as to where he might be. He hadn’t said anything for a while, but her instincts told her that he was still close.
There was nothing but the sound of the wind blowing through the alley, the cold air nipping at her ears and nose.
Without warning, something grasped at her collar and dragged her from behind the bins, making her stumble as she tried to find her feet. She finally stood crouched a few feet in front of him. With one hand, Sasha pulled a flashlight from her pocket and trained it on the man in front of her, feeling her heart slamming into her chest.
The tall, dark haired man did not look in the least upset at her finding out his identity. In fact, he grinned at her almost lazily, as though he knew he would be the last thing she saw.
“Well, hello, Sasha,” he said, quietly. “How good to meet you at last.”
“You know who I am?” she asked, keeping her voice firm.
“Of course,” he replied, taking two slow steps towards her. “Everyone knows that ‘our new Chief Inspector is doing everything she can to find the killer of the recent brutal murders that have terrorized the town’,” he stated, quoting from the recent article in the local paper. “You were too obvious tonight, Sasha.”
“You’ve got someone on the inside, is that it?” Sasha moved away from him, keeping her stance defensive. If she could keep him talking for long enough, she might be able to find a way to bring him down. He was possibly one of the largest men she’d ever seen, both tall and broad. The cruel smile on his face reminded her of a wolf, his teeth bared as he began to advance.
“I don’t need anyone else, Sasha. I can find my own food.”
Food?
“You ripped those women apart,” Sasha breathed, filled with disgust. “You used your strength and power to take their life away, just because you felt like it.”
He shrugged. “Something like that. Don’t forget that I enjoyed it, too.”
Sasha’s stomach rolled, a bitter taste filling her mouth. He was too horrific for words. “This ends now.”
He chuckled. “Do you really think I’m going to let you go, Sasha? You’re not going to win this one.”
“We’ll see about that,” she bit out, trying to keep control of her growing anger and revulsion. “Want to give me your name?”
There was a flicker in his eyes, as though he was surprised by her tenacity. He lifted one shoulder as if he didn’t care whether she knew his name or not, but Sasha could see how he tensed, his jaw clenching.
“You can call me Cliff,” he said, brushing off her question. “Not that you’re going to live to use it.”
He lunged at her then, but Sasha, having anticipated as much, dodged to her left, the flashlight in her hand still held high. His laughter echoed around the alley.
“You’re a fast one. That’s funny. One of the other ones was pretty fast too… although she wore out by the end.”
Sasha let his words bounce off her, refusing to let her focus shift. He dodged out of the flashlight’s beam, but she followed him with a roundhouse kick, catching him hard in the chest. He barely moved, other than to stagger back half a step, but a low growl rattled from his chest.
Sasha held the flashlight steady, knowing that she was going to have to reach for her gun if she wanted to survive. He was too big for her to fight alone.
“Give it up, Sasha,” he growled, his teeth bared. “It’s easier just to let me take you, instead of fighting until you can’t stand up anymore. I’ll make it quick, I promise. Just give up,” he reasoned, sounding almost sane.
“Never!” She ran at him, but he was ready for her. His hands grasped her clothes, picking her up with ease and throwing her, hard, against the large dumpsters in the corner. Sasha couldn’t cry out, her breath knocked out of her again.
Her body refused to move, pain coursing through her. Her flashlight was a few feet away from her, lying on the ground. The thin beam of light spread across the alleyway, illuminating the menacing figure of Cliff who was slowly making his way towards her.
“I told you to give up,” he muttered, shaking his head. “But you want it the hard way. Don’t worry, Sasha. I’m going to draw this good time out for as long as I can too.”
Finally managing to push herself up with one hand, Sasha tried to reach for her gun with the other, only to realize that her hand wouldn’t move. It hung, uselessly by her side. Trying to lift it just shot piercing darts of pain all through her neck and side, but Sasha knew she didn’t have time to give in to the agony she felt.
Using her other hand to reach for the gun, which forced her whole body to twist, Sasha turned her head to see Cliff almost within touching distance of her, his leering grin bearing down on her. Bile rose in her throat. If she couldn’t get to her gun, then most likely her colleagues would find her body lying in pieces on the ground the next day.
Pulling out the gun, she aimed it at him, adrenaline pumping through her veins.
“Just stop right there, Cliff,” she said, hating that her voice sounded so breathless.
A sneer appeared on his face, his eyes bright with laughter. “No, I don’t think so, Sasha.”
Sasha opened her mouth to say something, only for the words to die on her lips. Cliff was standing with his arms out wide, the sound of tearing and ripping filling her ears, although she didn’t know where it was coming from.
He laughed aloud, looking at her with eyes that seemed to glow yellow. Reaching forward, he caught her with his hands, sharp nails digging into her chest, scraping her skin.
“Just try it,” he whispered, his breath hot and fierce as he grinned. “Everyone else tried to stand up to me too, Sasha, but none of them stood a chance against me. You’re weak. So weak compared to me.”
A loud retort filled her ears. Sasha stared into his face, her breath coming in sharp gasps as she saw the shock in his eyes. The yellow tinge she’d seen there slowly began to fade away, his eyes growing dim. The nails that bit into her seemed to shrink and he toppled away from her, as if in slow motion. His head hit the ground, illuminated by the flashlight. The hair on his head seemed to shorten, his mouth losing the snarl it had held as his facial muscles relaxed.
Sasha couldn’t understand what she was really seeing, keeping her gun trained on him just in case he suddenly came to life. After what she’d experienced, nothing seemed impossible.
She waited there for several moments, until she was certain he wasn’t breathing any more. The hole in his chest streamed with blood, his eyes wide and staring as she moved away from him.
Leaving her flashlight where it was, she managed to get her gun back in her holste
r before making her way back to her car, feeling weaker and weaker with every step. Managing to get into the front seat, she leaned heavily against it, trying not to shake with the relief of just being alive. That had been too close.
Chapter Three
“Sasha!”
Stephen, her superintendent, marched over to her, his expression grim.
“Are you all right? What happened?”
Understanding his anger, Sasha dropped her head. “Sorry. I didn’t plan to come out here to confront anyone, it just…. happened.”
“You need to let someone know next time, even if you’re just going to scout something out,” he replied, firmly. “For goodness sake, Sasha, the man could have killed you!”
Sasha lifted her eyes and saw him still frowning at her, although she recognized that his gruffness came from his concern over her. “I’m fine, Stephen. Honestly.” She knew just how close she’d come to being Cliff’s next victim and recognized that what she’d done hadn’t been the wisest course of action.
“Still,” he muttered, shaking his head. “He seems to have beaten you up pretty badly.”
“Nothing that hasn’t happened before,” Sasha replied, grimacing as she glanced down at her arm. It had been firmly strapped up once the medic had popped her shoulder back in place. “I’m okay to carry on, Stephen.”
“Carry on?” he exclaimed, looking at her as though she’d gone mad. “Sasha, the only place you need to be is resting at home with that dog of yours.”
She shook her head, a quiet desperation beginning to fill her. “No, please Stephen. I need to see this through to the end. It’s the closure we’ve been waiting for. I’ve got to be a part of it.” She kept her gaze strong, determined to show him that she was more than capable of doing this.
He dropped his head, blowing out a frustrated breath. “Fine,” he muttered, clearly aware that she wasn’t going to sit back and let the rest of the team sort things out. “But get some food in you first, okay?”
“Okay,” Sasha agreed, relieved that he was going to let her carry on. Stephen indicated one of the baker’s shops near the scene which had opened up again, especially for the officers and other emergency services workers, even though it was past midnight. Sasha walked in, ordering a hot cup of coffee and munching on one of the sugary doughnuts on the counter.
“What a terrible thing to have happened!” the shopkeeper exclaimed, as Sasha finished the cake. “Were you the one who was hurt?” She eyed Sasha’s arm, her expression filled with concern.
“All in a day’s work,” Sasha replied, not wanting to go into detail with a veritable stranger. “Although I want to thank you for what you’re doing by opening up for us. We really appreciate it.” Picking up the coffee, she thanked the lady again before leaving the shop.
Knowing that things like this spread across the county within hours, Sasha guessed that by the morning there’d be a report in every newspaper about her and what had happened – and probably the shopkeeper would have an interview about her part in it all.
The coffee was hot and sweet, burning a path down her throat and into her belly. It was just what she needed. Now that the shock was beginning to wear off, Sasha felt as though she could do what needed to be done to bring this case to a close.
“So,” she said, walking up to the rest of her team. “What information do we have?”
“Not much,” came the reply. “He’s not exactly easily identifiable. There’s nothing on him by way of identification, but Mark here thinks he recognizes him.”
“Oh?”
The constable, whom Sasha presumed to be Mark, stepped forward, clearing his throat. “I just thought, ma’am, that he looks like one of the McBain’s.”
“The McBain’s?” Sasha repeated, frowning. “Those whisky people?”
Mark nodded. “The very same. I’m a bit of a whisky connoisseur, I’ll admit, and the McBain whisky distillery is doing very well lately. I had a tour there a while ago – a gift from the missus – and met the owners. It wasn’t him that I met,” he continued, indicating the man on the ground, “but he certainly looks like the other McBain. Family resemblance, maybe?”
“Maybe,” Sasha mused, quietly. “Do you have a number or anything?”
Mark grinned, and pulled out a card from his back pocket. “I still had one in my wallet.”
Sasha frowned as she was handed a small card, recognizing the logo on the front. “Did you call it in?”
The officer shook his head. “Not yet. There’s a lot here to process and I wanted to get your opinion on the matter first.” He raised one shoulder. “I might be way off.”
Sasha realized that what the officer said was true. There was a lot going on here, and there weren’t a huge number of officers available. “I’ll call it in myself, then,” she said, pulling out her phone. Within seconds, she was connected to Donna, their technical specialist.
“Hi, Donna. I have a card here from The McBain Whisky Company. Can you pull up a list of employees?”
There was a brief pause. “Got it. Am I looking for someone in particular?”
Sasha bit her lip. She’d try employees first, just in case Mark had gotten mixed up and seen someone who worked there instead of the owner.
“Someone named Cliff?” Sasha asked, wondering if the man had given her a fake name. “It might be a middle name, if it’s there at all.”
Another pause. “I can’t see anything there,” Donna said, slowly. “No one by that name, I’m afraid.”
Sasha sighed heavily, rubbing her forehead. “Okay, how about the owners? The McBain family?”
“They’re not technically employees so they won’t be on this list,” Donna murmured, the sound of her typing coming through the phone. “Okay, I have the list.”
Sasha held her breath as Donna continued to look. The last thing she wanted was to have an unidentified body on her hands.
“Ah!”
“What?” Sasha exclaimed, her heart thumping wildly. “Did you find him?”
“I have a Thomas Clifford McBain,” Donna replied, making Sasha breathe out a sigh of relief. “Do you want me to send you his photo?”
“Yes please,” Sasha replied. “And whatever other information you can get on him too, including his address. Thanks Donna.”
In only a few seconds, the picture came through and Sasha recognized the perpetrator at once. This was the guy. The killer. The one who had come close to ending her life. Her skin prickled as she remembered the way his eyes had seemed to glow yellow, frowning at the picture of the brown eyed man. Perhaps it had been a trick of the light.
“We’ve got him!” she called, striding towards Stephen who turned to her at once. “A Thomas Clifford McBain, one of the owners up at McBain Whisky.”
Stephen looked at the photo, and slapped her on the shoulder. “Well done, Sasha,” he said, grinning. “You’ve done it. Right, let’s get this mess cleared up and then dig into Thomas Clifford McBain a little more.”
Later that day, Sasha was exhausted. She’d headed up the team that had raided Thomas McBain’s home, and what they’d found was both awful and satisfying. It had given her the evidence she needed to prove that the man she’d shot was their murderer.
There had been small fragments of clothing with the victim’s blood spattered on them, although, no matter how hard they’d searched, they’d been unable to find any larger items of clothing with blood stains on them. Sasha came to the conclusion that he must have torn his clothes to shreds in the hope of getting rid of any kind of evidence, although he hadn’t been particularly careful.
Walking along the tables filled with evidence, Sasha looked at each piece in turn, a growing satisfaction in her chest. It wasn’t as though she was happy that she’d had to kill him, and certainly not that there had been so many victims before he’d been brought to justice, but she was glad that it was over.
There were still a few things she had to do, like file paperwork on the use of her gun, talk to various memb
ers of the investigation team about exactly what had happened, write her witness statement and, the worst part, find the murderer’s family. She didn’t particularly want to be the one to go up there and break the news, but it was going to have to be done.
Sighing heavily, Sasha sat down at her computer and typed Thomas McBain’s name into the database. His face appeared on the left-hand side of the screen, and a shudder went through her almost at once. She didn’t want to remember what had happened, even though Stephen, her superintendent, would probably insist on some kind of counselling. Evidently, Thomas had been in trouble with the police before, although, from what she could see, it was all minor incidents.