by Sara York
His high-pitched laughter brought her out of her shock. She wanted to reach up and scratch his eyes out.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God. Don’t kill me, please. I won’t tell anyone what happened. I swear it. Just do it and leave. I promise I won’t tell.”
Silence answered her. He shoved the vibrator in her mouth. The pain choked her, leaving her unable to breath. A gloved hand held her hair tight, causing her brain to swim. Finally, the sticky vibrator was pulled out of her mouth. Arisa gasped in air, swallowing in big gulps like she had forgotten how to breathe.
In the dim light, she could make out some details. The intruder was white and had strong arms. The eyes were ice blue, cold and hard with an anger that glazed them over, making them seem overly bright. Arisa blinked and shook her head, focusing on the features. Had the jerk who assaulted her at the club followed her home? No, this person was stronger, more muscle than fat, and they moved with a grace that was almost feminine.
“Please, I’ll do anything you ask, just don’t hurt me.”
The retaliation was enough to make Arisa keep all further pleas for her freedom silent. In a last ditch effort, she cried out to God, praying her death would be quick.
Her prayers were answered ten minutes later. The intruder carefully unrolled cling wrap and placed it over her face. She tried to blow it off, but every breath in sucked it tight over her nose and mouth. She fought the ties holding her to the bedpost. She tried again to blow the plastic wrap off. It moved away from her face for a moment, and she drank in a deep breath. The intruder cursed and placed his hands beside her head, holding the plastic tight.
Minutes ticked by. This was the end. She closed her eyes, trying to hide from the vacant blue stare above her. At the last moment, she flashed open her eyes. The room blurred and her vision narrowed. She tried to gasp for air. Finding none, her body shuddered and she was gone.
****
The kill brought him to an excited state. His heart raced in his chest as he sucked in huge puffs of air.
He loved the kill. The torture was fun, vacuuming their body as they squirmed made him more excited than sex ever did. They had no clue why he cleaned them. They would plead and beg, asking for him to leave. As long as they kept begging for him to stop, he kept going. Unless they asked him to fuck them and leave, that made it too easy. He wanted it to be hard to get inside of them. He wanted to force his way in, not be given permission. But the most excitement came from the kill. Watching the life leave their body was entertainment at its best.
The killer poured bleach into a glass bowl and diluted it with water. He used one of her washrags and cleaned her body, being careful to rinse away any fluid he might have left on her.
He hadn’t used a condom. He hadn’t needed one. Which was good. She was too available. He liked the sexual thrill of a virgin, or near virgin, not some dancer who took freelance jobs as a hooker.
He knew all about Arisa’s freelance jobs. He had even thought of purchasing some of her time last week, but he knew she would find it too weird when he showed up tonight at the club.
He had done that before, not purchasing a hooker, but one time he had dated one of his victims. It had an interesting side effect. The betrayal in her eyes was precious. But too many men had tasted Arisa’s wares. He liked to keep it fresh.
His mind drifted to his next prospect. Now, she was delicious. Her young supple body was pure and untouched. He had overheard her talking to a friend at the coffee shop. Latisha Enzer was still a virgin. A sweet, delectable virgin unmarred by a man's touch. He would show her how to please, how to make someone cry out in pleasure. Then he would take her and make her regret it all.
Just thinking about his next prospect made him ready. It would have to be soon. He couldn’t wait to taste her soft flesh and fill her with his power.
The joy of taking Arisa had already worn off. Damn it, he needed another one now, but not just anyone would do. It had to be Latisha with her ebony skin and onyx eyes. She was his new love, and soon she would feel it flow over her and into her.
Chapter 12
Tony raised the window a few inches, letting the cool night air blow through the room. He had just preached to Marissa about locking up tight, but his second floor bedroom was safe. With one last swig from his bottle of water, he fell back onto his bed. His vision swam as exhaustion overtook him. Closing his eyes, he drifted into a heavy, dreamless sleep.
The chirping of a bird called to him and found him in a far off place. Not wanting to follow, he groaned. The noise brought him out of his dream and into a strange consciousness. Marissa had decided to come home with him. They had made love all night long. Tony loved that dream, but this time it felt real. He wanted it to be real, wanted to have spent hours exploring her body, drawing out her passion, and leaving one another spent and exhausted.
With a shaky hand, Tony reached up and touched his head, wondering if he really was awake. His sleep-clouded brain turned his fantasy dream into reality. Marissa was here. A pulse of excitement traveled through his body, bringing him closer to true consciousness.
His head pounded with pain. Had he gone to bed drunk? Tony tried to remember, but his brain was too clouded to form a coherent timeline. Last night was a blank in his memory.
Out of habit, Tony reached across the bed, searching for Marissa. Something was there. No, not something, someone. His eyes flashed open and pain shot to the back of his skull. He closed his eyes tight, blocking out the light. Damn, he didn’t think he’d drank that much.
Slowly, he opened his eyes again. The early morning sunlight filtered through the gauzy curtains, shadowing then highlighting the figure lying next to him. His stomach turned and knotted as a wave of fear-induced nausea washed over him followed by elation.
The woman in bed with him, could it be Marissa? It had to be her. He wouldn’t sleep with anyone else. A fog clouded his thoughts, leaving holes in his memory. The body was dark and unmoving. Then the smell hit him. His brain cleared enough for him to recognize that scent. Blood. He reached out a shaky hand and recoiled when he touched a sticky substance. The dark shape beside him was covered in blood.
Tony fought the sticky covers, clawing at the cotton sheets that clung to his body. The air seemed to evaporate from the room, leaving him gasping for breath.
Shuffling out of bed, he fell to his knees before his feet found the floor. Propelled backwards by fear, he moved until he struck an immovable barrier. He caressed the cool wall. Comfort came in small doses from the smooth texture. He closed his eyes, thankful he had found something solid and unmoving to lean on. He sucked in oxygen, finally finding a breath of refreshing air. It didn’t last long as the putrid stench of blood and death followed him.
Opening his eyes, he leaned forward but left one hand still touching the wall. His legs shook and his head swam but he kept his gaze on the bed. The grotesque form lay only inches from where he had slept. Dealing with death was part of his job, but sharing his home with a murdered body was an abomination.
His breath came in rapid bursts as the world around him closed in. Tony raised his hand to drag it across his face, but stopped. It was covered in the dark blood. He looked at his arms.
More blood.
He caught a dim reflection of himself in the mirror. The shadowy visage was darkened with stains. Shock froze his actions. He was helpless against the fear building inside.
What had he done? Nothing came to mind. A complete blank filled the space of time that should have been his memories from last night. He’d left the police station near midnight. Then he remembered nothing. To help his blanked mind he slammed his fist against his forehead, but nothing came. The pain caused him to sway. He refocused and forced himself to remember, but his memories were fuzzy. Had the body been here when he’d come home? No, that was impossible. He’d have seen it. But when had it appeared? It was useless, he didn’t know.
Tony sidestepped his way to the phone, keeping his eyes on the bed, watching for any sign of m
ovement. The body had become the danger that lurked around the corner, feeding fear that clawed at the back of his mind. The scene was laid out in front of him like a bad horror flick. What if the body moved? Frozen in death’s grip, this person was now the enemy.
Tony’s eyes didn’t stray from the body on his bed as he punched in a nine and then a one on the phone’s keypad. Before he could tap the one again, he froze. He would fry if he was guilty. The person on dispatch would ask questions. Male, female? He had no answers. Tony moved closer to the bed. His heart raced, ramping up the dizziness and disorientation. Could this person be Marissa?
The body was female, but her skin was dark. It wasn’t his wife. Relief surged through him and his knees went weak. He almost fell to the floor. Bracing himself with his arms, he leaned closer to the victim. The coppery smell of blood made him gag, forcing him to stand once again.
Rex would know what to do. Tony’s fingers felt too big for the keypad as he punched the number for Rex. Dizziness overwhelmed him and he leaned against the wall again. He wasn’t following procedure, but he didn’t care. His future was on the line.
“Hey, Tony, what’s up?” Rex’s voice came across the speakerphone loud, almost unbearable in the hush of the morning.
“Get over here.”
“What? Tony, what’s wrong?”
“Get over here now.” Tony’s voice shook as he spoke. Unbridled fear ran rampant across Tony’s mind. Was the killer still here?
“Do I need to call patrol?”
“No!” Tony screamed, his voice breaking the barrier that had kept him from going over the edge. He sank to the floor, searching for his sidearm. His hand shook as it came up empty. His life as a cop was over.
He’d killed someone. But damn it, he couldn’t have. He choked back a sob as the line went dead. Tony didn’t move to hang up his end. The constant buzz from the speakerphone was comforting in the chaos of his bedroom.
The doorbell rang. Tony didn’t move. It rang again, but he couldn’t find the strength to get to his feet. He heard Rex yell from the front of the house, but still he couldn’t move from his spot where he watched the dead girl.
He heard nothing for a moment, then a key in his door. Rex still had a copy.
“Tony, where are you? Hey, call out or something so I can find you.”
Tony stayed silent, not able to say a word. He needed to stay calm. A cool, clear and collected head would get him out of this. He felt, rather than heard, Rex draw near. The stillness vibrated with an energy that threatened to erupt into the chaos Tony hated.
He hated the smell that emanated from his bed. He hated the sticky blood that covered his arms, and he hated the haze that clouded his memories, blocking out everything from last night.
The door pushed open and Rex flipped the switch. Light bathed the room, making the scene on the bed seem worse, more hideous than it already was. Tony let a sob escape his lips.
“Oh God, Tony, what the— Shit, I don’t even know what to say.” Rex reached over and pushed a button on the speakerphone. The silence was unnatural. It encompassed the room and the world around them. Tony wanted the noise back, anything to distract him from the bed and the body on it.
“I didn’t do it.” Tony’s voice sounded thin and far away from his own body.
“Tony, is she dead?”
“I didn’t do it.”
Tony saw Rex’s tennis shoes in front of him. The pristine white leather seemed too clean for this room. Tony stared at the shoes, unable to lift his head to look Rex in the eye.
“I’ll call this in.”
“No.” Tony’s voice reverberated in the room, breaking the stillness that had settled around him.
“Tony, you can’t hide this. It has to be called in.”
“Call Sekorski, but don’t call dispatch.”
“You’re asking me to break rules.”
“Don’t call it in. I didn’t do it.” Tony ignored the tears that streamed down his face. He focused on Rex’s clean, white shoes. His mind stalled as he ran back over last night’s events. Blank, that was all he could come up with. His mind was empty.
“I’ll call Sekorski, but I have to call the chief too. He has to--”
“No.” Tony’s voice held a steel edge that stopped Rex’s words. Rex turned and faced the bed, looking over the corpse. Tony watched as Rex shifted his weight from foot to foot.
“Tony, you said you didn’t do this.”
“I didn’t.”
“Okay, then we’re going to find the clues that support your assertion. Sekorski and Randall need to be called. I’ll call in Michael Rains and Janice.”
“Not them.” Tony’s voice broke as a new wave of grief washed over him. His career was over. Finding a dead body in your own house was damaging, but finding a dead body in your own bed when you woke in the morning was total annihilation.
“Fine, just Sekorski and Randall.”
“I’m going to take a shower.” Tony tried to stand, but his legs wouldn’t support him. He fell back against the wall, sliding down to the floor.
“No,” Rex barked.
“I can’t let Randall see me like this,” Tony begged.
“Okay, I’ll leave Randall out for now. But if you wash, we will never know if there was evidence on you. You stay put until I get back in here. Then we’ll go over every inch of your body, looking for some fiber or hair that the real killer brought in.”
Tony stayed sitting, unable to move from the spot against the wall. The dead body mocked him from the other side of the room. Someone had come into his house, violating his personal space. What if Marissa had come home with him? The thought scared the shit out of him, and a fresh wave of tears rolled down his cheeks.
Then a thought hit Tony that left him gasping for breath. Was he capable of murder? Had he broken down, found some willing body and brought her home? Did he have it in him to fuck a stranger then kill her in cold blood? Tony gagged. His empty stomach heaved as he listened for Rex to return with Sekorski.
Chapter 13
The seconds stretched into minutes. Rex entered the room and then went out.
Tony sat.
Rex came back with Sekorski. They bent their heads together and whispered. It didn’t sound good.
Tony sat.
Maybe he had committed this atrocity. Maybe there was a hidden part of him. Some psychoanalytical mumbo-jumbo about split personalities would come out during his trial. He would plead insanity.
“Tony.” Rex’s voice was gentle and subdued.
Tony liked his tone. He doubted anyone would ever use that tone with him again. People didn’t talk to murderers in that tone of voice.
“Tony, we’re going to shine this light on you. We need to search for fibers and trace evidence. You okay with that?”
Tony raised his eyes to Rex. He tried focusing on the face above him but it was too hard. His eyes burned and his head buzzed. He needed some water, and then a big strong cup of coffee.
Tony watched as Rex made four different passes over his body with a high intensity flashlight. He knew procedure. Look for trace evidence, a fiber or a hair left behind by the suspect.
“Rex, come look at this.”
Tony watched as Rex and Sekorski examined the body on his bed. They shook their heads then Rex turned back to Tony. His face was blank and unreadable.
“Sekorski, draw some blood from Tony.”
“I was just thinking the same thing.”
Tony didn’t move. He watched as Sekorski took a needle from his bag and pulled out four collection tubes. Being on this end of police procedure was disturbing. Tony couldn’t move. His body was frozen in place by fear and revulsion. His thoughts were clouded in a haze. He questioned last night’s activities. Rex and Sekorski buzzed around him, collecting evidence. All the activity left him feeling empty, lost, and confused. How had this happened?
Tony thought about his evening, but the details were lost to him. Marissa’s apartment, headquarters to w
ork, then home. He had gone home to do...What?
He wasn’t a murderer. He hadn’t slept with that girl. He would have remembered.
“Tony, there’s a hair on your leg. It doesn’t look like it belongs to either you or the victim. I’m going to use this tape to get it off. If I pull out some of your hair out, I’m sorry.”
The sting of the tape ripping out leg hairs brought a new level of clarity. Some of the fog around his thoughts cleared.
Water?
A bottle of opened water from his fridge.
He’d drunk water when he first came home.
“Rex.” The sound of Tony’s voice halted all activity in the room. Both Sekorski and Rex stared at him, their eyes wide with fear, the type of fear you show when you think the other person is crazy and it might rub off on you. “I think I was drugged last night.”
“What?”
“A bottle of water in my fridge was opened. I thought I had cracked the seal, but now I’m not sure.”
“Did you drink it all?” Rex’s question was too complex. Tony fought to remember what he had done. His mind seized, dragging him back down into a sea of confusion.
“I don’t remember.”
“Is it this bottle here on the nightstand?” Rex asked.
“I don’t know.” Uncertainty swamped his thoughts. He wondered if he had the water last night or the night before. Tony pulled his hand across his face, smearing more blood over his skin. He clenched his fists, then unclenched them, unsure how to gain his equilibrium.
“Sekorski will run an analysis on the blood he’s collected.”
“He needs to take some from me,” Tony said, his words slow and sluggish on his tongue.
“Tony, he already has.”
“I don’t remember.”