by Kim Faulks
He picked his shirt up from the floor and held it to his foot as he picked the shards of glass from his flesh. His foot stung as he pulled on his shoes, walked over to the vacuum and went to work clearing the glass from the carpet pile. A breeze blew through the massive hole in the glass and the scent of the night drifted in.
How did she find out where I live? That thought stopped him as his mind raced with the implications of a known criminal finding out where he lived. But it wasn't the first time, now was it? And this time it wasn't as though he had a wife and a daughter to greet whatever murdering psychopath forced his way into their home and into their life, however short that may have been.
He was now pissed off, waves of anger flooded through him. How had he gone from a moment of beautiful desire into something like this? Revenge coursed through his veins, tainted with vulnerability which, when push came to shove, was a dangerous combination in him. This bitch had no idea what she had just started and he was now pushed to the point where he would see this to the very end. Consequences be damned.
His date for the night was soon forgotten amongst the details of exacting his wrath, and her parting words never ventured into his mind. It wouldn't have mattered anyway ... no, it wouldn't have mattered at all.
Chapter 15
"I just can't do it," said the Superintendent as he stared up at her, his face bright red with just the thought.
"I'm not sure where in this relationship I gave you the impression that I give a fuck what you can and can't do? Now that we have that clear, I want it and now!"
"Do you know what you're asking me to do?" he pleaded, which only seemed to support her belief that all humans were pathetic and misguided.
"Yes."
"You know I could have you arrested for even suggesting that I set up one of my officers? A fine, upstanding officer who had gone through some challenging times in his life and has come out on the other side, I just cannot do it..."
Blah ... blah ... blah, she just wanted to throw up. "Sure you can, and will you have me arrested? No, I don't think so. I'll be waiting outside Hunter's place at two and I'll be expecting you there. If you're even a minute late, you won't live long enough to regret it."
"Jesus Christ."
"Nope, wrong side of the river, my friend. I bat for the other team," she said with a smile so wide it distorted her vision. The door thundered behind her and before the approval to enter was given, she heard the door open.
The sound of an out of breath male behind her spoke in gasps and grunts, "There's a big problem, boss. It’s the ... Happy Slasher. He's back."
The Superintendent frowned as though he had trouble understanding what was being said before he shot out of his seat. Kellah was all but forgotten.
"Are you certain? How sure are you, Constable?" He said, his voice growing louder by the second.
"There's a body ... a woman..."
"Dear God."
The Superintendent deflated in front of her, his face turning ashen. She was ready to excuse herself and leave them to whatever damnation decided to brighten their day, and she would have, except for the next words that the Superintendent spoke. "Does Detective Hunter know?"
"No, Sir. We've kept it off the airwaves, mobile only."
"Good ... good," he said, and then realized the importance of what was happening and what had played out before her. He turned towards Kellah, motioning away the officer with a stern warning. "Keep it quiet, and keep me updated, Constable. And I mean updated every goddamn second, do you hear me officer?"
"Yes, Sir," he said before the door was closed and his rushed footsteps disappeared down the hall.
The Superintendent looked uncomfortable, extremely uncomfortable, and she thought she would help him out. "Please excuse me, Superintendent. It seems as though you have your hands full and I don't think I'll need a fix for my problem after all."
He had nothing to say and that was fine, his blank stare said it all as she stood and walked out. It was a warm day and she was feeling good, even though the plague of religious fanatics were out in full-swing as she walked towards Paradise. They stood outside on the pavement waiving their placards and speaking in a riddled fanatical tongue. "Jesus will save you. All you need to do is to look for him in my eyes."
"Devil!" he screamed, pointing at her. She almost turned and looked behind her, expecting to see The Accuser, himself. There was nothing, of course and she glared at the fanatic as she stepped past, furious that he had raised her hopes.
He growled at her, his words spitting like venom. "You! You are going straight to Hell!"
"Gee, I hope so, ‘cause I forgot to take out the fucking rubbish before I left." She sniggered at his outraged expression as she stepped through the doors to Paradise and headed straight for the office, not even bothering to swipe a bottle.
Gerry was sweating, and that was never a good thing. He looked at her when she walked through his door and shook his head. "No, you can't be here anymore. The word's out and I can't be involved."
"Oh Gerry, stop being a drama queen. What word?"
She plonked down on the lounge and pretended to pick of a piece of lint from her shirt before she looked directly at him. He was as serious as he had ever been, there wasn't even the usual glint in his eye.
"Geez, that serious huh?"
"Yeah, not only has the word been put out by that Detective that's been hanging around, but now X is saying to shut you down."
"Fuck!" she said, her mind running as fast as she moved, trying to work out what to do next. "I need that money, Gerry."
He nodded, "Aha, yep. We all do honey, but no one is gonna help you while this is going down. You gotta do something to get this heat off your back."
A light bulb glowed inside of her head and she leapt off the couch, walking over, she kissed the wrinkly old man on the top of his balding head. He turned at the last minute and buried his face right between her tits. That was okay, she paid it no mind - well tried to anyway.
"I need..." she started, but the smiling man had already stood.
"Yep, you need a little something to get you through. Fucked if I know where your money goes, it sure as hell doesn't go to feeding you." He looked back over his shoulder, making sure she hadn't moved to see the combination of his safe before he bent, pressed a sequence of numbers and opened it.
He handed her a roll of bills, slightly larger than what he normally loaned her. She reached out to grab it, but he pulled it back only slightly. "The deal."
"Yes, Gerry, the deal is still on, okay?"
He nodded and handed it over. "Just so you know the best of everything, right?"
"Yep, the penthouse is all yours. The view over the fire pits is outstanding."
"Tell me?"
It wasn't the first time he had demanded her version of what his life would be like. He was like a child who cries for a fairytale story, one that they can cling to in their darkest moments, without knowing this will be his darkest moment ... for all eternity. She shook her head and tried not to remember, tried not to allow her desperate need to pull her back there once more. But, even without the desperation in his eyes, it was useless.
"The air is what hits you first, so thick and sharp from the heat and sulphur that you feel as though you're choking to death - for the first fifty years anyway, until you get used to it. Then you will stop and stare at the sky. It will look like the sun filtering through thick black rain clouds until you realize that it isn't the sun. It is the flames of Hell above, just as they are below; red, orange, suffocating ... so beautiful," she murmured back, reaching up to grasp her throat as though she were back there once more.
"The lower demons live mostly underground, or in the massive pits. There they are tortured and ravished until they scream for death. That's what you'll be waking up to, the screaming ... the breathtaking torture."
"Doesn't sound that good," Gerry muttered, and in those moments she had forgotten he was even there.
"You will grow to love
that sound, I can promise you that. Pain mixed with pleasure, riding on the edge of the blade until you lose all sense of yourself. That's what you will crave, and to deny that part of yourself is like a death of the worst kind."
"Yeah, okay," Gerry whispered, and she pulled herself away from her home, her need kicking and screaming as she dragged it away. This, to her, was torture. But she focused on the here and now, it was all she could do.
"You will have it all, Gerry. Being a Superior is what all us lower demons dream of. The power surges like a current running through you, making you bigger, stronger, and undefeatable, one step away from The Accuser himself."
"Oh," he whispered, his eyes glazing over with so many of the seven deadly sins it was hard to count.
It was in these moments that she felt proud of what she truly was. The scheming and manipulating was like an adrenaline hit, as she made her way to the warehouse. She was in control and that's the way it would stay. She would get the gold and if Xeno knew what was good for him, he would pay her, his share included.
They wouldn't see her where she waited, watching the warehouse, until she saw Reno, Xeno and the others leave. She smiled and moved in, cutting the phone line wires before she entered. The security wouldn't be sending any alarms and it was only a second before she ripped the siren from the front, silencing the piercing squeal.
Xeno needed to be taught the lesson that Kellah would do whatever she pleased, whatever the consequences. She thought of this for a while, but couldn't work out if that was a good thing or not, because it was this which ended with her spending the best part of eternity in this hell called Earth.
The safe was hidden in the floor, surrounded by slabs of concrete. It would have taken a crew with jackhammers and a crane to pull it from where it sat. She pushed the desk and the carpet away from where it hid. There were rumors that Xeno kept the best from each haul for himself, and she had witnessed his carnivorous attention for the gems and gold that she, herself had bought to him.
She bent down, slid opened the cover to the safe and grabbed hold of the handles, pulling it from the ground.
The floor cracked and erupted in a mass of tumbling white rocks as the safe was pulled up and sat on top of the ground. Tearing the steel door from the hinges was easier than lifting it up, and within minutes she had the door open, the steel jagged and torn from the force. Then stood back and looked at all of what glittered inside the safe.
The jewels spilled out and onto the ground around her feet in a jumble of greens, red and blues. She reached down and picked them up, some of them taking up most of her palm. Nice, she thought and pocketed them before walking out. It was done and there was no going back. There was only one thing she wanted to do before putting her last plan into motion.
Chapter 16
The first inkling he had that something was wrong was when he turned up at the station and was greeted by his Sergeant. That wasn't unusual in itself, but the case file that he was handed, was. An industrial theft of millions of dollars sat in his hand and a stern warning. "The Super wants you to go over and interview the entire list of suspects, and I mean all, Detective."
He opened the file, looking at the long line of interviewees. "This is going to take me all day."
"That a problem, Detective? I mean, that is your job, right?"
It was a problem. A big problem. He had plans today, but he shook his head and answered, "No problem, Daniels ... I mean Sergeant."
He turned, opening his locker and trying to work out some way to get out of this, until he realized the Sergeant still stood behind him, watching him. He turned around, annoyed. "What?"
"Just following orders, Detective."
"What orders, to fucking baby-sit me?"
The Sergeant just shrugged, but his eyes were cold as though he stood on the other side of the line, the blue line they all walked. He didn't like this.
Didn't like it at all.
He grabbed his Glock, checked his ammo, and holstered it before grabbing his keys and walking out.
Eyes watched him as he signed out his vehicle. Suspicious cop eyes. What the fuck was going on? Whatever it was it was a damn site more important than what sat in his fucking hands.
He slid in behind the wheel and switched on the radio. Nothing. No usual chatter and nothing that would tell him what was going on. He slid his thumb across the screen of his phone and it came alive as he scrolled through the small and pathetic list of numbers. Stephanie Morris stared at him accusingly, and her parting remark came back to slap him in the face, lose my number. He had plenty of time to purge her from his phone and his memory later, so he scrolled past, hitting the number for Chris Fisher.
"S'up," Chris answered on the third ring and inside Darrion flinched.
"Where are you?"
"Umm ... over Eastside. Why?"
What could he say? Sergeant's being mean to me and I sound like a whiny bitch? "Something's going down and I'm not feeling the love, get me?"
"Oh yeah, man. Shit, Hunter. Wait on..." the crunching sound of gravel under Fisher's feet filled his ears before he spoke again. "What do you know about a Stephanie Morris?"
"Why ..." he said, feeling something dark creep up on him. He turned and checked the backseats as his eyes flashed across the rear vision mirror. "Fisher, I asked why?"
"She's dead Hunter, found this morning by a jogger."
"Jesus ... Jesus ..." he said, pushing back his hair with his hand. "She was with me last night ..."
"Yeah, we found your address text in her phone. It was the last message she has and Hunter ... oh shit, Hunter, that's not the worst thing."
Not the worst thing? How could there be something worse than the woman who was with him only hours before turning up dead? "What is it, Fisher? Tell me for fucksake!"
"They are saying it's The Happy Slasher ... God, I'm so sorry ..."
Hunter's world stopped. There was no air in his world, there was no light, no life... only complete grey as his world imploded.
"Hunter, you there? Hunter... oh shit. HUNTER!"
"I'm here," he said, not knowing how he would ask the words. "Where is she?"
"No, Christ no. Do you know how much trouble I'll be in for even talking to you?"
It was typical that his friend put his own welfare above anything else and it only reinforced the fact that he was on his own, like he had always been. "Then I'll drive around all day and night until I find her."
"Fuck! Fuck! Alright, but keep my name out of it, okay? The park over at Hennessey Junction."
"Thanks, Fisher. I mean it."
"Yeah, don't fucking thank me, man. Just don't drop me in it, feel me?"
"Yeah, don't worry about that."
"And Hunter, one last thing. Jesus as if this shit isn't bad enough. They're looking at you for it."
And if that was a surprise, it wasn't a very good one. Originality obviously wasn’t a big thing with the powers that be. He had been under a microscope for years after Griff and his family's deaths, and it was only due to the massive shit storm he had created that kept him out of being jailed on circumstantial evidence.
It looked like his world was about to come under the microscope again. He backed out from the parking lot, heading for Hennessey Junction and to the body of the fourth person who had come into his life.
The crime scene guys were already well into processing the body when he turned up. Dark sedans lined the curb, the number was usually in relation to the degree of exposure a crime would have, and by the distance he had to drive to park, this was going to be huge. His feet felt like lead weights as he walked back to the cordoned off area and slipped under the tape. The body was covered by a thick, black plastic sheet, and as he stepped toward her, he was stopped with a hand on his chest.
"You shouldn't be here, Hunter. Who told you?"
Riccardi had never been a fan of his and he wouldn't be telling a lie if said the feeling was mutual. He ignored him, pushing against his outstretched palm until it buckl
ed and he forced his way towards where she lay. He could see Fisher off to the side and, as promised, he never looked at him as he knelt beside the body. He allowed himself a moment to steady and prepare before he pulled the sheeting back.
Her eyes screamed at him and he dropped the sheet, tearing his gaze away from her as he tried to get himself together. Everyone watched him, watched and analyzed his every move, every painful moment, as the private moments of his life were put on display. He needed to do this, needed to see what this beautiful woman went through. To stand up and be counted to her horror and brutality of her life's end, all because she dared share a moment with him.
His stomach screamed out in anguish as he lifted the corner, her eyes assaulting him, pleading with him. But in life there was nothing he could do for her now, only in death he could do her justice. His gaze jumped from her eyes to her mouth, the crude razor gashes into her cheeks were in an obscene smile as the flesh hung open. The molten river of his rage erupted inside of him, and in that moment he turned this onto himself. He had done this. He had killed her.
The crime scene guys walked up towards him, nodding out of respect to him as a Detective. They didn't know, how could they? He stood and stepped back, letting them take her body to the morgue, knowing they wouldn't find any of him inside her. But God it had been close, and how would that have looked?
"Order's come down from the top, they want you back at the station," said Riccardi, stepping in front of him as he tried to pass. "You should have stayed away."
His fist clenched and shot out before he had a chance to realize what he was doing. It hit Riccardi in the mouth, snapping his head back with the force of the blow. His fist pained, but when Riccardi came back at him, the bloody mess of his mouth looked far worse. He screamed and lowered his head, charging at Darrion like a bull and taking him down to the ground.