The Tangerine Killer

by Claire Svendsen

  “Ouch,” she cried. “Stop it, you’re hurting me.”

  “Shut up. Sit down.”

  I grabbed a metal chair and shoved her down on it. If I had handcuffs, she’d have been in them already. I wasn’t in the mood to play games.

  “So what are you trying to hide?” I asked.

  The paper she had slipped from the file as we picked up the fallen pages was the non-descript psych report that had declared Toby Mathews mentally stable. I scanned the page trying to see any discrepancies. As I did she began to cry.

  “Look, you’re getting on my last nerve. Why don’t you just do yourself a favor and tell me what you know.” I squatted down next to her, trying to be nice. It took every ounce of strength just to keep my voice soft. “I’m not the police. If you help me it will just be our little secret. Okay?”

  She shook her head and more tears fell.

  “You don’t know him,” she said.

  I stood up, the soft voice gone for good. I’d given her a chance to come clean the nice way. Apparently we were going to have to do it the hard way instead. That was fine by me.

  “Know him? You think I don’t know him? He’s killed two women already and now he’s holding a four year old child hostage. Do you understand? He’s only four, he can’t protect himself and this man that you are so afraid of has him. You and I both know how that could end so tell me what you know.”

  I grabbed her shoulders and shook her in frustration but she just started crying harder. I looked at the creased page, flattening out a piece that had folded over where it said that employee 1742 was mentally competent. Something wasn’t right.

  This had to be it. The clue I’d been looking for all along. I opened the file and there it was staring me right in the face on the very first page. Toby Mathews was employee number 1743 not 1742. The report was a fake.

  “What do you know about this?”

  I jabbed at the paper with my finger.

  She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  “You’re joking right?” I shouted.

  She was wasting my time. I couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled out my gun and pressed it against her temple. That did the trick. She let out a little shriek.

  “You wouldn’t shoot me. Would you?” she stammered. “There are cameras all around us. You’d never get away with it.”

  “You think I really give a fuck about getting away with anything? All I care about is saving the life of a four year old child. If that means killing you in the process well that’s a risk I’m willing to take. You see I don’t care what happens to me. But you do. You want to go back to your fancy home with your expensive shoes and Egyptian cotton sheets. You don’t want to end up in the morgue with a bullet hole in your head.”

  Of course I didn’t really mean to shoot her in the head but a nice clean round through her leg would probably be sufficient enough to make her talk. Unless she passed out from the pain but I was prepared to take that risk.

  “Okay then. Have it your way.”

  I cocked my gun and pulled it from her temple, then shoved it hard into her upper thigh.

  “No I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you,” she screamed.

  “I don’t know, maybe you’ll focus better with a bullet as incentive.”

  “No I’ll tell you I swear, please.”

  “Okay then, talk.”

  “I helped him. I helped him get his job here.”

  “Why?”

  “He was charming and sweet,” she said.

  “Charming? Sweet? A moment ago you were afraid he was going to kill you, now you think he’s sweet? Because if you do then you’re in the minority. Everyone else around here seemed to think he was a creep.”

  “At first he was sweet,” she said. “That’s why I helped him get this job but once he had it, well he wasn’t so sweet anymore.”

  “What happened?”

  “We went out on a date and he tried to rape me. I fought him off and swore I’d press charges but he said I’d be sorry if I did. I should have believed him but everyone says that don’t they? They never mean it,” she started to sob again.

  “What happened?”

  “I filed charges and the next morning I found my cat on the doorstep with a stake through her heart and a note that said if I didn’t drop the charges then I’d be next.”

  “So you dropped it?’

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you tell the police?”

  “Because I would have been dead long before they could have done anything about it. I’d have been the one skewered on my doorstep or I would have just vanished into thin air without a trace. I know what he’s capable of.”

  “So tell me how to find him. Help me stop this before it goes too far.”

  “He won’t be at the address on his papers, that’s his Aunt’s address. He’ll be at his mother’s. She has a place on Bridgeport Drive. He likes it there, it’s damp and disgusting.”

  She scribbled the address on a little scrap of paper, hand trembling as she did. I knew she was scared and that she had good reason to be. Her only saving grace was that her disappearance would have aroused suspicion among the Digiteck employees. But she was right, in helping me she had placed herself in harm’s way and if for some reason he got away from us he would no doubt come after her.

  “I want you to get yourself down to the station. Ask for Detective Olin or Captain Bright. Can you do that?”

  She nodded.

  “You can’t stop him,” she whispered. “No one can.”

  “Well I have to try. Just get yourself down to the station,” I called out as I left the building. Sitting there limp and shell shocked, I wasn’t sure if she would.

  Outside I paused for a moment in the shade and lit up a cigarette, then dialed Olin’s cell phone. It was hot and humid out, the mid afternoon heat wave that came before the daily storms. They were building in the distance by the coastline, deep purple swells rising up into the sky. The phone rang and rang then clicked over to voice mail. I hung up and dialed again.

  “Damn it Olin, where are you?”

  Sweat started to trickle down my back. It soaked through the thin cotton shirt I was wearing. The phone just kept ringing and then going through to voicemail no matter how many times I tried.

  “What’s happening? I’m onto something. Call me back.”

  In my annoyance I failed to leave any significant details and felt that it really served Olin right. He left me with no hint of where he had gone and as the blinding sun bounced off the concrete parking lot, I realized he also left me with no car.

  SIXTY FIVE

  The receptionist was still sitting where I left her.

  “Give me your car keys,” I said.

  I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone. Drop her off at the station and find Olin, then we could go together. I toyed with the idea of going alone but despite Parker’s looming fate, I knew that would be suicide.

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  She looked up at me with bleary eyes. “Kimberly.”

  “Good. Come on Kimberly, you’re coming with me.”

  She looked frightened. My stomach clenched in a knot. I hadn’t meant to scare her but time was running out. Parker’s time.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You are,” I said.

  I took her hand and pulled her up out of the chair. Her high heels clattered on the floor as she fought to find her balance.

  “Get your bag. Get your keys. Let’s go.”

  Despite the fact that she seemed genuinely scared to death of me, she did as I asked. Her car was a plain silver sedan. I took the driver’s seat and she clutched the passenger seat as I raced out of the parking lot. I couldn’t believe Olin had just left me there. Why had he done that? He said we had to stick together. He said he had my back. Yeah right. I was going to kill him for abandoning me.

  I parked outside the station and ushered Kimberly along. She balked at the door like a wayward horse but I fe
rried her past the reception desk and into the elevator. The cop on duty waved me past. They all knew who I was by now.

  The squad room was eerily empty. The evidence board still loomed at the end of the room, larger than ever. A shrine to the wrath that had come to Tangerine when I had. Will was sitting at one of the empty desks. He had a doughnut in one hand and a jar of maggots in the other.

  “Will, where is everyone?”

  He looked up with a guilty smile.

  “Caught me at it again,” he laughed, stuffing the last of the doughnut into his mouth.

  I pushed Kimberly down into a chair.

  “Sit here and don’t touch anything.”

  She nodded in agreement, her wide eyes taking in the crime scene photos pinned to the board. She said she’d known what Toby was capable of but seeing it up close and personal was something else. I had an idea her imagination only touched the tip of a very big iceberg.

  “What’s happening? Where is everyone?” I asked.

  Will licked his fingers thoughtfully. Obviously he knew more than he was letting on. I crouched down beside his chair and looked up into his hazel eyes.

  “Will, I really need to know. It’s important.”

  “The captain gave me two jobs. Guard the room and don’t talk to anyone,” he shook his head sadly.

  “But you know me, surely he wouldn’t mind if you talked to me.”

  “He said I especially shouldn’t talk to you.”

  “What?” I stood up, feeling my ribs burn. “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  Will was many things that people didn’t see. Sad. Lonely. Misunderstood. But one of the things he was not was a good liar.

  “Will listen, I found something out after Olin left. Something important. I’ve tried calling him but I’m not getting an answer and you know that’s not like him. I need to know where he went.”

  “I like you Sam, I really do,” he sighed. “But I could lose my job.”

  “Parker could lose his life.”

  I knew Will was torn. He was struggling with an internal battle but I couldn’t wait much longer.

  “God damn it Will. Just keep an eye on her then,” I pointed to Kimberly.

  I wanted to choke the information out of him but that wasn’t going to help me. Will was a good man, he was also a cop. I’d land myself in lock up if I started waving my gun around, threatening his life.

  I found Olin’s desk, littered with files and papers. He had a photograph of Parker, swinging a toy baseball bat with a huge grin on his face. My heart leapt into my throat. There was a stack of messages. Phone tips that had been called in. Witnesses that had come forward. Most of it was crap. None of them looked credible but there had to be something there. Some sign of where Olin had dashed off to and why. Whatever it was it had to be big. He wasn’t alone. He had the whole squad behind him. But why had he left me at the lab?

  SIXTY SIX

  I may not have been able to beat the information out of Will but that didn’t mean I couldn’t use my powers of persuasion. One trip to the vending machine later and he told me everything he knew. The Tangerine killer had made contact. He told them where they could find him. He said he was waiting for them. That he was going to turn himself in and hand over Parker.

  “And they bought that shit?” Cops could be so stupid.

  “Nah,” Will mumbled through a mouthful of chips. “They knew it was a set up but they had to give it a shot didn’t they? I mean, he wouldn’t have called if he didn’t want something.”

  He wanted something all right. Me. Alone, without protection or back up. I now knew why Olin had fled. The lure of getting Parker back coupled with the fact that I’d be a liability. Waving me in front of the killer would only serve to play out some kind of morbid exchange. Parker’s life for mine. Olin wanted to save both of us. He should have known it could never happen that way.

  “Where did they go?” I asked.

  “Downtown. That warehouse near the park. They think that’s where he’s been hiding out.”

  “They’re wrong,” I said.

  I tried Olin’s cell again. This time the voice mail was full. Shit. I scribbled a note and left it on his desk, stuck to the photo of Parker where I knew he’d see it. Meet me at 1450 Bridgeport Drive. He’s there. I’ll wait for you. Hurry.

  SIXTY SEVEN

  I think from the very beginning I’d known it would come down to this. There really wasn’t any other way it could end. The Tangerine killer had always wanted me and it had just been a matter of time. I’d been free because he wanted to play with me before finally swooping in for the kill but the ticking clock had run out. My time was up.

  I smoked as I drove. The window was open and the breeze tousled my hair. I hadn’t had time to do much with it and now it looked artful and sexy. Not the hacked off job it had once been. At least I’d look nice in my coffin, if the Tangerine killer left anything for Olin to find.

  The storms had been swept away by the breeze and the sun was shining. Everything seemed bright and new. I saw things I’d never paid attention to, even though they’d been there all along. The row of trees on Conner Street, the way the sunlight filtered through onto the road and cast dancing shadows of light. The flock of birds on the telephone wires, their joyful songs filling the air.

  It had been so long since I felt alive. Now, in what may be my final hour, I did. I knew what people were talking about when they said that you didn’t appreciate life until it was nearly over. They were right. I wanted to kiss Olin. Make love to him under the moonlight. Travel. See the world. Leave my claustrophobic life behind and never go back. If everything worked out, maybe I’d have a chance to do all those things. Or maybe not.

  1450 Bridgeport Drive was a squat, derelict house that looked abandoned. It was only two streets over from the house pot head had fled from. That day seemed like a lifetime ago. We’d been so close to him and never even realized. I bet he had a good laugh about that one. I parked further down on the other side of the street and tried not to get too worked up.

  Olin still hadn’t called me back. I checked my phone before dialing his number again. No reply. No voicemail. I threw my phone on the floor in disgust. I’d wait for him but I couldn’t stay out there indefinitely. I watched the house and chain smoked.

  It didn’t look like anyone had lived there in years. What was left of the yard was overgrown with weeds and leaves, the rest had been parched dry by the sun. Trash cans sat up by the house, catching the tiles that were periodically sliding off the roof. The downstairs windows were shuttered and closed. The upstairs window had something dark draped across it, a curtain or old sheet. Perhaps Parker was up there. I strained to see any kind of movement. There was none.

  Time ticked on slowly. Cars came and went but most of them were passing through. No one gave my car a second glance or slowed down to look at me. No one in the neighborhood gave a damn. You’d be a fool to try and steal something from one of them.

  The sun warmed my skin and my eyelids grew heavy. I was thirsty and every now and then my stomach grumbled. I was going to have to make a move soon or else leave and come back later. I’d been watching the house all afternoon. What if he wasn’t even there? What if he really had gone to meet the cops? Maybe it was all over by now. I just couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t.

  I closed my eyes for a second, I was so sleepy. I think I may have had them closed for longer than that but it certainly wasn’t more than five minutes. When I opened them I saw movement behind the curtain. Then it was gone.

  Shit.

  I struggled for a better look. Had I really seen something? It could have just been my eyes playing tricks on me, momentarily blinded by the sun in those first few moments I opened them. But what if it was Parker?

  I didn’t know where Olin was or what he was doing but I couldn’t wait for him any longer. I hoped he’d forgive me.

  SIXTY EIGHT

  Gun. Check. Knife. Check. Cellphone. Shit.
I’d left it in the car. Well, I wasn’t going back for it now. What did it matter anyway since Olin wouldn’t answer my calls? I crouched in the bushes and over grown weeds, listening for any sound inside the house. I couldn’t hear a thing. I held my gun in one hand and slowly turned the door knob in the other. It was unlocked.

  I willed the door not to squeak as I gently pushed it open. Despite its ancient hinges, it obliged. I slipped quietly inside.

  The living room was filled with boxes that towered up to the ceiling. They were everywhere. Piled on the couch and sitting on the table. They blocked the window and whatever light would have filtered through the shutters so it was dark. I should have brought a flashlight. Instead I stood and slowed my breathing, letting my eyes become accustomed as I tried to focus on the job. Get Parker and get out, preferably alive.

  There were shuffling noises in the dark, scratching and rustling. A shiver ran down my spine as I moved through the labyrinth of boxes and into the kitchen. It wasn’t much different than the living room. Boxes in every corner. Some on the stove and others piled in front of the ancient refrigerator. There were empty take out boxes on a little folding table. One of them was a child’s meal, the plastic toy abandoned amongst the paper. Breath caught in my throat. Parker. He had been here.

  Then I heard it. Movement up above. Someone or something was up there. I felt a little sick as I imagined a colony of giant rats gnawing on things. Writhing and crawling all over one another. It was the stuff of my nightmares but I forced myself to take the stairs up to a threadbare landing. What was left of the carpet smelt of urine and the dirty paper was peeling from the walls. I followed the sound to the door at the end of the hall. Heart beating in my chest, gun poised and aimed to shoot, I pushed the door open.

  SIXTY NINE

  He’s waited for this moment a very long time. So long that he can’t even recall the first time he thought of controlling Sam. He’s always wanted her. From the first time he laid eyes on her, back when she was just a little girl. The first time he’d seen her on the swing, he knew that eventually she would be his.