Hells Angel

by Kim Faulks

  Hundreds of logged jobs sat in the open investigations file for the past twenty-four hours. Three murders and five accounts of rape highlighted in his search, and he searched through each one until he found the statement he needed.

  The young woman was found in an alleyway at the back of Molly's Restaurant. The laceration to her face in a smile mirrored the one around her neck, the incision so deep that it severed the connection from her head to her body. Marks on her hands and torso indicated that she had been tied up and hit repeatedly with a blunt object. Hunter had seen this enough times in the evidence reports to know what had happened without reading the words. She had been used as a human punching bag.

  Her driver's license identified her as Francine Legget, 25 years old, last known address not stated. Hunter stared at her photo, a homely young woman with soft features and bright eyes stared back, before he turned back to the list of injuries this woman endured before her life was brutally ended. To Hunter, it never got easier, even when they said it would. The murders, the rapes and the never ending cycle of loss. He guessed he would always see the loss of a life, like Francine Legget, as something more than just numbers and an evidence file. She was more than that to someone who cared. It was a sad day indeed when you scanned through the crime scene evidence of a murder like this and the only silver lining you could find was that at least she wasn't raped.

  The initial search of the area found nothing that they could track back to the murder or the investigation. But an entry logged after the initial statement indicated a second search was conducted at first light and a set of police handcuffs were found. The serial number had been scratched off, but everyone knew who they belonged to, everyone, that was, but Hunter.

  There was nothing else in the file that would give him any more information, so he closed down the case file and pushed back the chair. He was about to flick off the computer and leave the building, but as he reached for the switch he saw an e-mail that had been sent from the Superintendent's office. Curious, he opened the file and frowned as a video image popped up on the screen. The low moans and grunts were obvious, even though your mind argued to the opposite. Here he was in all his glory, Superintendent Harris and some blonde lying across his massive oak desk, the white cheeks of his arse pumping frantically between her outstretched legs.

  Hunter couldn't help but smirk at the sheer beauty of the live feed, and he could only imagine what would happen when his brother found out. He closed the e-mail, not wanting to see anymore, and switched off the computer before walking out of the room.

  Chapter 23

  Kellah was finally getting out of here. One last stop, she whispered as she headed north. The streets were still dark and deserted; the upper-class busy drinking champagne and mingling with their own kind in trendy bars and five star restaurants, which meaning it would be easier to retrieve the bag. She followed Madison Avenue around until it dipped and turned right outside the row of jewelry stores and high end car showrooms. Yes, you would never have known it was the same city.

  The storm drain lay directly in front of the dealership, the white street lights bouncing off the shimmering glass, lighting up the large metal cover of the drain. The car park behind her lay mostly deserted, only a dark van sat silent in the middle between the street lights. She stopped in front of the drain and looked around, lifting the steel lid from its holding and quietly jumping inside, landing in the trickling water with a splash.

  The cold water marked her boots, soaking in through the laces and into her socks underneath. She moved to the right, finding the drain that branched off to the left, and felt around through the rush of leaves and glass bottles that drifted with the constant current, feeling nothing.

  No, she growled, moving around the small edge, thrashing around in the muddied underground river, unable to feel the soft velvet bag that held her future.

  A feeling that was as close to panic as she ever had welled inside her, this has to be the right place, it has to be.

  The panic inside turned into frustration, then sunk under the river of steel cold anger that shimmered just under the surface. She had kept herself in check, pushed away the hurt and frustration, and kept a controlled manner for the past ten years, but it was getting harder to keep the façade. It was this moment that her resolve finally cracked, and out poured the injustice of her circumstances.

  "Fuck you!" she spat, listening to her words echo along the winding tunnels as she collapsed in the tiny river.

  Her anger and venom left her and what replaced it left her feeling hollow and used. "What do you want from me?"

  It couldn't be her who spoke. It had to be someone else. Someone who sounded weak and afraid. "Okay, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything, and I wish I could change it all back."

  She was lost, hidden underneath a maze of wrong turns and hopeless situations until she ended up here, sitting in a storm drain with dead rats and empty cans floating by. She couldn't deal with her punishment any longer. Given the chance she would have ended her life here and now if she thought she could go back. But there was no going back, she couldn't die. She could only live a half existence, neither belonging to this world or her last until time sped by and she was finally allowed to return home.

  Water trickled down her face and she wiped it away with the back of her hand and looked up, expecting to see it trickle from the ceiling above her, but there was none. She was so caught up in her anger and frustrations that she didn't realize that the water she felt came from her. She was crying.

  "I have nothing left. You have taken everything from me," she stated, no longer caring that on some level she hated herself for saying the words.

  She didn't know his name, only his face. That face would haunt her for the rest of her natural and unnatural life. He was the reason why she was here, sitting in some storm drain in some rich fucking suburb in the middle of nowhere with nothing but these human emotions coursing through her veins like some damn plague.

  Normally she wouldn't allow herself to think about him, she would shut the thought down like a steel wall inside herself, even when he tried to invade her thoughts, which seemed to be more and more lately. It was the lowest moment of her existence, that moment ten years ago, a moment of weakness that would rule the rest of her life.

  She opened her mouth to speak the words she wanted to. I curse you. She wanted to say that and so much more, but all she could manage was a piercing scream that shuddered inside her chest and burned her throat as she smashed her fist into the cement wall of the drain hard enough so that it cracked.

  She pushed herself up and out of the filthy muck and she realized her hand landed on something soft and … velvety. She grabbed the mass, lifting it from the slurry as she felt the knot still in place. A smile ghosted across her face.

  She pushed herself upwards with her legs, jumping out of the drain and landing with no more than a squelch. She grabbed the cover, lifting it so didn't make the tell-tale scrape, slipped it back into the groove, and stood. This was it. It was done, and she was ready to fly from Red Valley once and for all. She hadn't seen the human Lucy since leaving the night before, and for one strange reason she couldn't leave without saying goodbye.

  The bag of jewels was heavier than she remembered, making her footsteps lighter and her smile wide. She would send Lucy the money that she needed to take care of the animals once she got to where she was going. She made her way back to the apartment and was almost to the top of the stairs when she heard weeping and sobbing. Peering around the corner, she saw it was Lucy who waited for her, sitting outside her door.

  Lucy looked up at the wrong moment. Her eyes widened and she quickly got to her feet, stuttering, "You... you have to help me. My sister has been murdered."

  That was the problem of humans, once you showed them the tiniest bit of weakness there was no going back. She shook her head, stepping up to the last step, and making her way towards Lucy. "I can't help you."

  "You can't help or you won't help?"


  "Does it make any difference? Would one or the other make you feel any better?"

  She moved past her, unlocking the door. She didn't bother to shut it behind her, it would have made no difference anyway. Lucy walked in and watched as she placed a black velvet bag onto the table. Her eyes narrowed for a second, but she was a smart girl and it didn't take her long to understand what was happening.

  "You're leaving, aren’t you? You're leaving and never coming back."

  "I'm not a part of this world, your world. I never wanted to come here, but I was sent here. This is my prison Lucy, this is my Hell."

  "What are you?"

  Decide now, she said to herself, end her, or answer her. It has to be one or the other. Lucy's eye was still swollen, she was barely able to open it and look at her. The bruises on her face were dark and angry, but she moved with purpose as she came quickly towards her, until they almost touched.

  "I'm a demon."

  Lucy didn't ask questions or cry and piss herself as others seemed to do. Instead, she reached out and grabbed hold of her hand, holding it in her own. She could feel the human shake, and by her scent it wasn't from fear, but more from determination and desperation.

  "Please," she whispered softly, her voice turning to ice along with her gaze. "Don't make me tell the world."

  Kellah flinched, she knew she shouldn't have, but she just didn't expect it. Not from Lucy.

  "Fucking bitch!" Kellah growled, as her anger erupted and she moved through the apartment trying to find something, anything, to smash. There was nothing, of course. The apartment was empty, as it had always been.

  Kellah shook, her hands clenched wanting to rip something apart. How dare this human stab her in the back after all she’d done? She was fucking manipulative, colder than anything she had ever seen. Even a Superior was no match. At least they had the foresight to show you what they were before they cut your throat.

  This human was a rattle snake with kind eyes and a warm touch. Kellah knew she would do anything to get what she wanted, and what she wanted was to find a murderer.

  She rushed the human and then stopped before her. Lucy didn't even see it coming. How was it that this human, Lucy from 2C, was about to get away with something that no one ever had before? Not only was she about to get half of what sat in the black velvet bag, she was about to get revenge as well.

  "Fine. But let me warn you that I don't get called off. You don't get to change your mind halfway through and decide it was all a mistake. Whatever happens, happens. Know in your own mortal heart that your soul has stepped closer to Hell."

  She swallowed and nodded. "It will be worth it."

  "You humans, you are all so naive." Lucy's face reddened instantly, it seemed she had hit a nerve.

  "You think you're the only one that hates it here? You think you're the only one who feels that this life is a sentence, something to be endured? Think again, demon. Francine and I suffered plenty, more than any human should."

  Suffering and agony, this was why she felt a connection to this human. It seemed they had more in common than she had realized.

  "Francine, is that your sister's name?"

  Lucy nodded, and tears welled in her good eye, flowing silently down her face from the other. "She was murdered. I saw it on the news, they're calling it the Happy Slasher. I've been too frightened to go to the police on my own."

  Kellah laughed. "You can face off with a demon, but can't go to the police?"

  "I think that one of them is her murderer."

  That stopped her laugh, and it died in her throat. "Who?'

  This was about to get very messy, indeed. Kellah pictured Hunter kneeling over the body. Darrion Hunter, was he the Happy Slasher? And did she just make a promise to kill him? Fate was one bitch with a fucked up sense of humor. She turned to Lucy, her throat turning dry as ash. This was going to end badly, she could just feel it. But she nodded, "Let's do this."

  She walked Lucy back to her apartment, she needed to get more information before she went and did something rash. "Why do you think it's a police officer?"

  “Francine started dating him a short time ago. Everything was going well at first, but the last couple of days she became frightened. She said that there was something wrong with him. Something dangerous that she didn't think was human."

  Kellah turned to her, stopping dead in the middle of her lounge room. "What do you mean, not human?"

  "I don't know. I was supposed to meet her last night, but that there was a note saying that there were animals in danger, so I went there instead. If only I had gone to the restaurant instead of charging off like some goddamn hero, this would never have happened. My sister would still be alive."

  Human emotions, she was so fucking bad with them, especially when they were her own. Guilt threatened to overrun her once again, but she held it in check, her focus now on finding the killer.

  "How did she meet this officer?"

  "Actually, it was because of you..."

  Chapter 24

  Hunter walked past the frantic yells and screams of Riccardi and his posse as they ran from one computer to the next, trying their best to delete the e-mail and remove the link. By the look of their faces, it seemed the video of the Superintendent had gone viral, the red flashing errors signaling that the footage had crashed the police WebCOPS system, clogging up the Internet. He couldn't help but laugh. It seemed that he wasn't the only one getting fucked around here.

  Now that the Superintendent was out of the picture, there was nothing stopping him from going after Kellah Slater, and figuring out once and for all why she had targeted him. The details about her vendetta were sketchy, but details were a funny thing. They never stopped the department from going after him in the first place.

  Hunter walked to his car, got in and headed for home. There was one last thing he would need, one thing that he had recently bought for this day alone, an off-duty piece and ammunition would finish the job.

  He felt in control as he drove home. He had made his peace with his wife and child, and his deal with the Devil was all but done. His phone vibrated against his hip and he pulled it out, the caller ID flashing his brother's name. Don't answer it, he urged himself, and he waited until the phone stopped vibrating before he breathed a sigh of relief.

  Michael was the one person who he didn't want to hear from, knowing too well that his plans would be derailed. The phone vibrated again, he cursed and hit the button, answering the call. "What's up?"

  Michael's calm voice filtered through the speaker. "Do you know about Harris?"

  "Yeah, I just came from the station. It seems that you might have your hands full."

  "I just want to let you know that your name came up a number of times, and I'll be launching a full investigation into not only Harris' office affairs, but into your arrests of a woman by the name of Kellah Slater."

  "Is that right. How did her name come up in this?"

  "From what I can understand, Superintendent Harris seems to think it was set up by this Kellah Slater, and that you might know something about this. You don't, do you Darrion? You don't have anything to do with this?"

  In all honestly he wished he did, he wished that he had the evidence to ruin Harris. The man deserved nothing less. "No, Michael. You'll not find anything that involves me."

  He heard his brother sigh through the phone, the relief his brother echoed hurt as he realized that Michael really did think that he had something to do with what was going on.

  "Yeah, well thanks for the happy reunion, but I'd better get going. Take care, Michael."

  "Look, Darrion. I'm sorry," he said in defense when he heard the hurt tone in his voice. "Ah, shit. I'm coming up there tomorrow. I really want us to sit down together. It doesn't have to be anything heavy, I just want to see my brother okay?"

  What was he going to say? Yeah, sure, no problem Michael. You can fly all this way and sit beside me. What's that? What will I be doing? Well, I'll be lying on a cold slab in the mor
gue with half my head missing, but shit, I'm still good for a laugh, right? If all else fails, you can pin all of the shit that's going down on me. I mean, it won't be anything, will it?

  Instead, he answered, "Yeah, sure. That’d be good, just call me when you get here." He ended the call as he drove in to his driveway, feeling cold and detached.

  He shifted the clothes in his cupboard, pushing them aside to get to the safe. He kept his off duty piece there, and as he grabbed the Glock and magazine, he felt his fingers brush against the pile of photos he kept hidden there. There were photos that he hadn't seen for a long time, and he grabbed the bundle as he made his way to the bed.

  He unwrapped the ribbon and let the happier times spill out across the quilt in front of him. Naomi stared at him, her stomach swollen and her face glowing with happiness. He flicked over the photo - 8 months pregnant, it read. God he didn't want to, but in that second he was taken back to that memory. He'd come home to find her wielding a sledgehammer, her face sweaty and smiling. She'd decided in her glorious wisdom and riding high on pregnancy hormones, to redecorate. This really meant that she was demolishing half of the spare room to make way for the antique furniture that had been coming. He was horrified as she flicked the hammer up and over a shoulder, smashing it down on the wooden shelving.

  It's okay, I've got it babe, she had said to him as he rushed forward in a panic. He had grabbed the hammer from her, kneeling down and running his hands over her stomach. The fear he had in that moment felt like a knife that plunged into his chest. So fragile, like crystal, he remembered thinking. Somehow that memory became tainted with the events that would come, and he was back in that room looking over at his wife as she lay dead on their bed.

  Too many memories, too much of her, and that's why he kept the photos locked away in the safe. He stood up ready to leave, but there was one photo that sat out from the rest. There was a picture of the three of them and, if he remembered correctly, it was taken just before the first murder back at a time when they were happy.