by K. C. Sivils
“You’ve had a rough day.” Father Nathan’s statement brought my attention back to our table.
“You could say that Father. My rookie partner was hung over, a cold front is moving in as if it wasn’t cold enough already and we spent the day checking out old crime scenes.”
“The Cowboy thing?”
“Yeah. My specialty unfortunately. I was sent here, supposedly to deal with corruption and clean up the force if possible.”
“You say that like you don’t believe it.”
I laughed. My new friend was observant and read people well.
“Let’s just say I’m easy to set up as a scapegoat. I have a tendency to bend the rules at times so people who need justice but never get it can have the system work for them for a change.”
Father Nathan just nodded like he understood and sipped his coffee.
“What’s up with the girl? You might have been able to explain it away to Alice easily, but not me.”
“Yeah, about that. I promise I’ll tell you, just not today.”
“No problem,” Father Nathan answered. He nodded in the direction of the kitchen, indicating Marla was returning with our food.
---
He watched the prey scurry about in the cold. He was certain this was the hunting ground he’d seen the special one prowling about. It had promise of serving as a good hunting ground for her as well as other prey animals. He would have to be careful not to over hunt the terrain and attract unwanted media and police attention in the process.
As he walked down the street, enjoying the dropping temperatures, he watched as the prey animals scurried about, their heads down in a vain attempt to reduce the effects of the chilling blasts of icy wind striking their faces. Fog rolled in, just as the weather forecasts had forewarned, creating a delightfully frightening aura for the prey animals.
In the distance he noticed a small group of girls, poorly dressed in worn clothing that couldn’t possibly shield them from the dropping temperatures. Pickpockets of course. This part of Capital City would make for excellent turf for them. Just enough workers who made enough money to be worth stealing from and a few of the city’s well to do slumming at the good restaurants to provide a nice prize on occasion. Yet the area was down on its luck enough to not have a large, obvious police presence.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Anna pulled hard on Lucy’s hand, dragging the younger pickpocket behind her. Annoyed, Lucy struck Anna’s hand hard enough to loosen the older girl’s grip.
“We’re going,” Anna insisted.
“That mark had money. We should clean him out,” Lucy complained.
“No. He gives me the creeps. Let’s go.
“Anna, c’mon. I’m hungry. The fog will make it easier. We’ve got enough to give to the boss for a day’s take. Let’s hit this mark and treat ourselves to a decent meal at Joe’s.”
Anna’s stomach growled, reminding her of the fact she had not eaten all day and not much at all if you considered the piece of stale toast she’d been given for breakfast. She frowned at Lucy, knowing the smaller girl was just as hungry as she was. Against her better judgment, Anna decided to go along with the younger Lucy’s request.
“All right, but only because the fog will make things easier. If I say run, you run and meet me at today’s meeting place. Do you understand me?”
Lucy smiled as she nodded yes, pleased with herself for convincing the older Anna to do what she wanted. Lucy’s mouth watered as she imagined the smell and taste of a bowl of beef stew. She imagined chewing on the pieces of meat and the other vegetables in the stew. It had been over a year since she’d had stew of any kind, let alone beef stew at Joe’s. Lucy licked her lips in anticipation. Not only would she get a good meal that tasted great, she was going to eat it inside a warm building.
The younger pickpocket listened carefully as Anna gave instructions on how they would take the mark.
---
Watching his miners line up to take the ride to the surface, the foreman noticed the paler than normal skin tone of several of his crew. Living on Beta Prime with its horrific cold did not encourage lots of outdoor activity. Mining as an occupation further reduced exposure to the sun, increasing the health problems inherent with lack of direct exposure to sunlight.
All of the foremen were trained to visually inspect their crews for any health problems. Depression from lack of Vitamin D was an issue. You couldn’t have a miner decide to take his own life at the bottom of a mine. Infectious disease could spread like wildfire in the conditions the miners toiled in below ground.
Even with their dirty faces, the two miners looked paler than normal. His crew moved into the large elevator, a simple cage it seemed like, that would take his men to the surface. Watching the pair, the foreman noticed their eyes looked watery, red even, but with the shadows playing across their faces as the elevator sped up the shaft he couldn’t be certain.
Better safe than sorry he thought. He was going to send them to the clinic before they went home. Reaching the surface, the elevator stopped with a jerk. The doors slid quickly to the side and the miners began pouring out, laughing and talking now that they’d reached the surface.
Each miner removed his tag and hung it on the board, a long used method of keeping track of the miners below ground in case of a disaster.
“Karl, Jamaal, wait up a minute,” the foreman called out as the pair hung their tags up.
“Yeah, Boss,” Jamaal answered before covering his mouth as he coughed, a hard, rattling cough.
“You two don’t look so hot. Let’s stop by the clinic and let the Doc give you guys a quick once over.”
“Oh, c’mon Boss, I’ve got a hot date waiting for me,” Jamaal complained.
Karl chimed in. “If I’m late getting home again the wife is going to never let me hear the end of it.”
“Too bad. You guys don’t look well. I’m not having my crew get sick and not meet quota because the two of you wouldn’t let the Doc give you a once over. As for your hot date and wife, I’ll call them if you want me to.”
Jamaal and Karl glanced at each other and shrugged. It was no use arguing with their foreman, not when he mentioned the crew’s quota. Nobody ever wanted to fall behind on the shift’s assigned quota. To do so meant no incentive pay to go with their regular wages, wages that were hard enough to make ends meet with.
“Okay, Boss,” Jamaal replied. “But get Doc to do it fast, okay? I’ve been workin’ this dame hard to get her to give me a shot. I don’t want to screw this up by showin’ up late, okay?”
“You don’t want to show up and screw things up by getting her sick either,” the foreman replied.
Jamaal made a face and shrugged. Karl just sighed and turned in the direction of the clinic.
“Let’s get this over with so we can go.”
---
Blending in with the fog, the Cowboy watched the two young pickpockets nonchalantly make their way down the opposite side of the street. He smiled openly. They had made his decision for him. If the prey mistakenly decided to hunt the predator, then they would pay the price.
This hunt would be different, a new challenge. The prey itself was not the challenge. Small, weak females were easy prey, but two at the same time? That was new. Moving back into the view of the prey, the Cowboy walked slowly down the street considering his options.
Two prey animals. Two trophies. Perhaps he could take one trophy now and keep the other alive, for later. Yes, that would be his goal. A quick trophy now and the capture of the other prey animal. Then he could take his time and enjoy the kill.
It would be good practice for the Special One. It would be a shame to take alive as he intended and then botch his time alone with her. Yes, he needed time alone with a prey animal. Time to practice, to experiment on how to best enjoy the Special One.
A spur of the moment hunt could be problematic, making it a challenge. He needed to be challenged before he hunted the Special One. He would take the trophy
from the smaller of the two prey animals. The larger, older prey animal would put up more of a fight, creating a more realistic practice session for the abduction of the Special One.
Nobody would miss these two street urchins. Their clothes told him that much. Perhaps the adult who ran the pickpocketing gang and took the rewards of their days efforts, but what could that individual do? Run to the police and say one of my pickpocketing thieves is missing? The similarity in the prey’s facial appearance and body language indicated they were sisters.
Reaching into his pockets to check if he had what he needed, the Cowboy noted everything was ready. He never left home or work unprepared to hunt.
---
I left Joe’s and stepped out into the eerie fog rolling in. It had thickened enough now that it was not possible to see across the street in the darkness as the sun set, lowering the temperature even more.
I decided I liked Father Nathan. I’d never really talked to a priest before. They always wanted to talk about religion and beat me over the head about what I was doing wrong in my life. I am all too aware I’m a “sinner” and have sinned plenty. I have no doubt the good father was itching to convince me to start attending services at his parish church. In this day and age, how many people are there who think believing in God is necessary? Recruiting had to be part of his job.
Still, something told me the man had led an interesting life, and a hard one, before he’d taken up wearing the collar. We had talked about the gang of pickpockets I’d spotted working our part of town. He’d struck up a deal to feed two of them every Friday morning provided they hadn’t stolen anything yet. I’d laughed at him, thinking him naïve only to get an irritated frown for my foolishness.
“I’m not naïve. These two kids were cold and hungry. A free meal before shift change is enough of a lure to give me a chance to get to know them. I’m meeting them outside of Joe’s. They get their meal before any marks are really out and about and I get a chance to reach out to them.”
“My apologies Father. I wish you luck with your efforts. I’d rather you get them off the streets before I have to investigate their murder.”
Father Nathan looked away, watching the fog roll in. “Yeah, I’d rather that too. The life of crime usually ends in prison, the morgue or worse.”
I’d taken my leave and thanked him for dinner, promising the next time we ate together it would be on me. He’d smiled and said he hoped he’d have some young guests with him next time. We both laughed and I shrugged. I could afford to feed a couple of street urchins. If nothing else, they might be sources of information in the future.
I entered the plastisteel structure that was the apartment building where I lived. The grumpy gray-headed manager was on duty but ignored me as I made my way up the stairs, avoiding the less than reliable elevator. It had been a long day and I still had things I wanted to get done.
Before unlocking the door to my home, I checked the hallway. Everything seemed okay but experience had taught me to always be vigilant. I opened the door and stooped to pick up the tiny filament I’d inserted in the door. Nobody had entered while I was gone, at least not through the door. The trick was centuries old but it worked. Most criminals never looked for anything like that when they entered a locked room or home.
I tossed my greatcoat on my couch and looked about. I needed to spend my next day off unpacking and getting things arranged. Sitting down on my bed, I pulled off my great boots and sat them down by the end of the bed. I placed my .50 revolver on my desk and undressed.
After a scalding hot shower I felt better. Enough so I could do some mental work. I fired up my laptop and attached the device I used to download files and images I’d made with my cybernetic eye. It took less than ten seconds and I got busy sorting the images into files and writing down my notes.
Josephson either couldn’t function with a hangover, wasn’t that bright of a detective or both. I sighed. I would do my best with the kid. After all, it had taken me a long time and the good misfortune of losing an eye while in the military. I had the advantage, if you wanted to call it that, of studying crime pictures in my own mind.
After a couple of hours of scanning the images of the crime scenes and comparing them to the police reports I’d come up with several important conclusions.
The Cowboy was an evolving serial killer. He would never stop until we caught him or he died. He preferred female victims but would kill males if necessary or the opportunity presented itself. With each kill he became better. The crime scenes became more secluded, allowing him more time for the kill. Enough time that now he felt the need to not just brand his victims but to take a trophy.
My other conclusion was the police force I had been transferred to was either incompetent, which was possible, or simply was not interested in catching the Cowboy. Perhaps even both. Early in the cycle of kills the Cowboy had been sloppy. There could have been witnesses or evidence left at the scene.
But forensics had not been called out until it was too late and the snow or freezing rain had contaminated the scene. The canvass for witnesses was only haphazardly done.
Now it was my job, my neck on the line to catch the Cowboy. I had to wonder if that had something to do with the leak to the media. It wouldn’t be the first time I had been set up to take a fall. It didn’t help that I was suspicious about my transfer to Capital City on Beta Prime in the first place.
I decided to go to bed and get an early start. Sighting the girl made me want to access the CCTV cameras around Joe’s to see if I could catch a glimpse of her on her escape route. One thing was for sure, she was smart and she knew how to disappear quickly.
My comm buzzed its annoying buzz. I picked it up and answered. If I were going to get that early start it would be without much sleep.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I decided it was a good thing Josephson wasn’t here. After seeing the dead cop he’d dated a couple of times and the fact he wasn’t much of a drinker, he didn’t need to see this body. Not right now. It was another one of those things you can’t unsee once you’ve seen it. And I wished I’d never seen it.
To look at the victim, at first glance, she looked like a teenager, a small one. Upon closer examination I realized she couldn’t be older than ten or eleven. Her clothes, such that they were, made her look older.
The coroner agreed with my assessment, ten to twelve years of age, no older. Malnourished and possibly in the first stages of what she called “miner’s cough.” I had no clue what that was but filed it away for later. Her pockets contained a couple of wallets and a few other things that were obviously not hers.
I wondered if this little girl was the one Father Nathan had mentioned to me at diner. If nothing else, he might be able to help identify her.
“Inspector Sullivan.”
The coroner’s voice shook me from my reverie, bringing me back to the crime scene.
“Look,” she said, pointing at the bloody mess of brown hair. I leaned over and squinted, focusing my cybernetic eye and zooming in. There it was, the so-called brand. I could make out the irregularly shaped star burned into the bloody flesh of the girls scalp.
“Is it him?” she asked, worry written across her face.
“You live around here?”
“Yes,” she replied, her voice shaking slightly.
“Yeah, its him,” I answered. “Do not say a word to anyone. Panic is not going to help us catch this monster. Do you understand me? Not a word.”
She nodded and took a deep breath, gathering herself. Like the professional she seemed to be, she went back to work, examining the body.
I turned around and found the uniform responsible for the crime scene.
“I want this entire neighborhood canvassed and don’t give me any guff about the fog keeping people from witnessing anything. That little girl had to have screamed. People might not look, but they can’t help but hear. I want all the CCTV pulled for me by 0800.”
The uniform frowned but nodded, typing in m
y instructions on his tablet.
“Have you called forensics?”
“Sir,” he protested. “It’s starting to snow. They won’t be able to find anything.”
“You idiot,” I muttered as I grabbed him by his collar. “Forensics might find something. The sooner they get here, the better chance they have. Did anybody teach you anything at the Academy?”
I let go of him and gave him a shove. He glared back at me with a hate-filled stare, not that I cared.
“What’s your name,” I looked at his insignia for his rank, “Sergeant?”
“Bland,” he snapped back.
“If you want to keep those stripes, do your job. And don’t for an instant think I won’t have those stripes yanked before your next duty shift,” I growled.
The change in expression in his eyes told me Bland understood I wasn’t making a threat. I was informing him of what would happen if he screwed up again in my presence.
Bland turned and walked away, calling for more officers to secure the scene and to rush a forensics unit.
I walked to the edge of the alley where the victim was found and did my best to visualize the area. I gave up and used the infrared of my cybernetic eye. There wasn’t much heat but the variations of cold, or absence of heat at least, gave me a general idea of exactly where I was in the neighborhood.
This little girl had to be one of the pickpockets.
I didn’t want to, but I had to.
I reached into the pocket of my greatcoat and pulled out my comm. I typed in the number Father Nathan had given me and waited. I won’t repeat what the good father said when he woke up.
“Father, me, Sully. Stop yelling at me. Yes, I know what time it is.”
I gave him a moment to collect himself mentally.
“I wouldn’t have called you unless it was necessary. Not at this hour.”
Silence filled the airwaves between the two comm devices.