It Takes a Killer

by Natalia Hale

  Hannah inhaled deeply through her nose. “You’ve clearly never met my mother.” That earned her a chuckle from Martin. Feeling more at ease, Hannah decided to move forward and sit in the chair. It was just as uncomfortable as she imagined, but it made Martin sit down as well. A level playing field, Hannah thought. Much better.

  “I was with Dane the night he died,” she said. Martin nodded. “I imagine Mariana Tern was the one that gave you that information.”

  Martin didn’t make any motion, a perfectly still face that Hannah gave her credit for; not something easily accomplished. But Hannah didn’t need her to make any kind of move to know that Mariana was the one that had turned her in. “She was jealous.”

  “Of your relationship with Dane Hemlock?”

  Hannah nodded, twice she counted. It felt strange to do so more than once, but she found it appropriate for the setting. “He’d taken an interest in me since I killed Belleveau. She’s always had a crush on him.”

  “From what I hear all women at the hotel do,” Martin said. “Did you?”

  Hannah gave another shrug. “I was flattered, but not interested. He wasn’t looking for a relationship, and he was only interested because of what I did. That’s why I took him into the alley—to prove it wasn’t him and it was the alley I wanted.”

  “You mean to prove it wasn’t you, it was what happened, you mean,” Martin corrected.

  Hannah furrowed her brow. “Is that not what I said?”

  “No,” Martin replied. Hannah thought of her words and things began to grow jumbled. She held up her hand and pinched between her eyes. “I’m sorry I haven’t been sleeping well lately. I keep having nightmares.”

  “Understandable,” Martin said, her voice softening. Whatever hunter instincts Martin had were dwindling, replaced with the kind caring that most people in town harboured for each other. Hannah remained as calm as she could, ensuring her hands didn’t start to shake with the thought that she was actually fooling an officer of the law. Martin, the woman that had been so determined to prove Hannah was an intentional murderer, was letting her guard down.

  “Dane is…was a charming man,” Hannah admitted. “I was caught up in the moment and when he kissed me I kissed back, but I regretted it and left. I knew how Mariana felt but…” She shook her head and lowered her hands to her lap, keeping her eyes focused there. The cherry red nail polish was almost gone, either picked away by her other hand or worn off from daily use. She noted that she would have to repaint them when she got home. “I don’t know how it happened.”

  “Witnesses say you initiated the kiss,” Martin added.

  Hannah huffed through her nose. “Maybe I did. I was mad at Mariana—she won’t talk to me anymore. Nobody will. All I did was defend myself and now…” She hiccupped, finding a shred of real emotion for herself over what had happened. Hannah really did hate that nobody was talking to her, especially Mariana and her parents. She hated that they feared her, because they were the ones that had nothing to fear.

  Martin shifted on her chair as she leaned her elbows on the table. Hannah listened intently, trying to gauge what kind of expression she must have. Soon Hannah looked up and found Martin watching her with soft eyes, the complete opposite of what Hannah had previously seen. Martin said, “There’s something you need to see.”

  She pulled the brown file closer to herself and opened it, fingering through a small stack of reports before coming to a thin plastic bag. Inside it was a piece of paper, with writing scrawled elegantly across it.

  “What’s that?” Hannah asked, already knowing the answer.

  “A note was found with Dane,” Martin told her. “We have reason to believe that he was killed because of his interaction with you. It seems you have an admirer.” She slid the note towards Hannah.

  “He’s been cleansed and soon so will you,” Hannah read, “I’ll show you the light.” Hannah leaned back. Whoever had written those words had nearly pierced the paper on every word. “That doesn’t mean it’s about me.”

  “It was found pinned with this,” Martin said, pushing another bag forward. In this one was a photograph of Hannah standing in front of the hotel from a few nights ago, waiting for a taxi. She was looking down the road beneath the streetlamp, her bag hanging low in front of her as she held it with both hands. It would have been a nice candid shot, if it hadn’t been pinned to a dead body.

  “How did he die?” Hannah asked, unperturbed by the photograph. If Martin noticed Hannah’s calmness she didn’t say anything about it.

  “He was burned to death,” Martin answered. “‘Cleansed’.” With one small hand Martin pulled the elastic out of her hair, letting it fall towards her shoulders. It brushed against the top of her navy uniform, and that one simple movement made her look even more human. Nothing like the hardened cop she seemed to want to be. “Have you received any gifts recently? Any anonymous notes?”

  Hannah shook her head. “Maybe…”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” Hannah said, “I think I remember getting a gift.”

  There was a moment of hesitation as Hannah answered, unsure if what she was about to say would reveal the identity of the killer. She didn’t like the idea of Martin figuring it out before her so she added, “I threw it away, I’m sorry. I thought it was from Dane.”

  Martin’s eyebrow twitched. “What was it?”

  “I don’t know I never opened it.”

  Martin’s small nose twitched. It was the only sign Hannah could read of her annoyance, and it elated Hannah to know she could still get under Martin’s skin even as the victim. Still, she added, “It was in a small white with a red bow. You know the kind men always think is romantic.” She shrugged lightly.

  Martin’s nose gave another twitch. Hannah kept her gaze matched with Martin’s, and the longer she stared the easier it was to hold. Martin looked away. “What did you do with it? Where did you throw it away? I’ll have officers go and look for it.”

  “Is it really that important?” Hannah asked. “What could be in it that—”

  “Of course it’s important!” Martin shouted, slamming her hands on the table and she jumped up. The hit vibrated through the metal and into Hannah, making her flinch at the sudden outburst. Of all the reactions she’d thought Martin would have that wasn’t one of them. Her eyes widened as Martin glared down at her, the woman’s small stature suddenly gone. She seemed like a burning tower crashing upon Hannah. It was getting hard to breathe, Hannah’s own chest heaving with each shallow intake.

  Hannah furrowed her brow. “I threw it away at the hotel, if you must know.” She stood. “I’m done here.” She held her purse at her side, her hand shaking as it gripped the strap.

  Martin’s little nose didn’t move this time, but the crinkle on her forehead smoothed out. Soon enough she was the picture perfect, or better yet, neutral officer she was supposed to be. She gave a small inhale and nodded. Once.

  Hannah felt her own nose give a small twitch.

  Martin moved towards the door without a word, and within a minute Hannah was walking onto the crooked steps of the station. Something had gone wrong, and Hannah didn’t know what.

  All she knew was that Martin was closer to finding the killer than she was, and she couldn’t let that happen. The insignificant box Mariana had thrown away was very significant now, but she knew it wasn’t going to do her any good to try and find it. If this killer really was interested in her as Martin thought, Hannah would just have to wait for them to come to her.

  And if Hannah was good at anything, it was waiting.

  Without anyone to talk to Hannah turned inward. She couldn't go to her parents for advice, not that she often did, but she wanted to call her father in that moment. She wanted to ask him for the truth, if she really had done what Preacher Tompkins claimed; if her mother really was afraid of her. If Jessica wasn't before, she was now. Not only that, Hannah wanted to ask her father if he ever felt the way she did—if he'd ever enjoyed the
things he shouldn't. Thinking of the alley still gave Hannah a squirm in her stomach, knowing she had fought someone and won. But Hannah knew that wasn't something you asked your parents, or anyone for that matter. Their answer would always be a resounding no, even if they wanted to scream yes.

  Society survived on the dark desires of humans. Alcohol, drugs, smoking, sex; all of it was looked down upon yet Hannah saw everyone do at least one of them on a constant basis. Garnet's Lake might dress up for church in their Sunday best, but after dark was another story. After dark was when Hannah knew the people of her town were truly themselves, even if it was behind locked doors. She'd always wondered what each of them did, and how it might show on their faces if she asked.

  The way the town avoided Hannah was proof enough of their delectable sins. They avoided her in hopes of hiding what they truly wanted; to be like her. They all wanted to be as free as she was about her feelings, but that thought only made Hannah question her own honesty. She thought of Dane and a chill rolled over her skin at the thought of touching him. Touching him in the alley however… She sighed as she sat down on her couch, the lights off in her apartment.

  The town was jealous, and that included Martin. Martin was only determined to catch the killer to further her own career, and get out of Garnet’s Lake for good. In a way Hannah wanted to find the killer first just so Martin didn't.

  The sound of shuffling paper caught Hannah's attention. She turned towards her door as a thin white envelope slid beneath it, sweeping across the hardwood until it met the kitchen tiles. Hannah stood quickly, recognizing the red ribbon that wrapped around the paper. She rushed to her door but by the time it opened she was alone. She knew there was no point in chasing a ghost down the hall because she wouldn't catch up.

  She kept a cool exterior in case anyone was watching, namely her neighbour. Chuckles was clicking his nails across the tiles on the other side of the door, and apparently tired of growling at Hannah. It was odd that he didn't growl at whoever was out here seconds earlier, making Hannah think the person that dropped the letter off was familiar to him. Of course, in this town anyone could be familiar with the dog.

  Which left Hannah with the only option of reading the letter. As she turned back she realized she couldn't assume what was in the envelope was a letter, but she found it a safe assumption. The killer’s first gift went unopened, so maybe this was delivered to her home on purpose. Maybe it was a threat...

  Hannah made sure to shut her door before picking up the envelope. It was light and carefully wrapped, immaculate even; just like the small gift box. But there was a small lump on one corner, the only imperfection.

  Hannah leaned against the kitchen counter and turned the envelope around, pulling at the red ribbon. It fell onto the counter, a soft hush as it brushed against the marble.

  In one swift movement Hannah ripped open the top. She knew if she didn't do it quickly it would only taunt her more.

  She expected a gift, something small and nice that the killer wanted her to have. Instead she pulled out an earring, a small clean pearl. She observed it in the evening light, recognizing it instantly. It was Mariana’s.

  Straightening her back Hannah no longer felt relaxed. Her heart had skipped a beat and there was a distinct chill over her skin. She was right in the sense that the killer wanted her to have this, but it wasn’t a gift.

  Right? Hannah questioned it, unsure. People that did what this person did had strange ways of sending messages, didn't they? Her lips pursed harder together as she yanked out the paper inside the envelope, carefully setting Mariana's earring on the counter.

  Unease rarely settled over Hannah. It had barely been there after she'd killed Belleveau, and even when Mariana and her parents had decided she was no longer deserving of their love. She'd gotten angry over that, but this...this taunt against her made her furious. But it made her feel something else too.

  Nervous.

  Hannah scanned the letter with care:

  Tonight at 0000 hours in the church. I'll show you what a true friend is.

  Hannah blinked at the black ink words. Not a threat, she mused with a smirk. An invitation.

  The paper fluttered as Hannah flipped it back and forth, checking for any clues as to where it came from but finding nothing. Plain white paper with plain lettering...the only clue was the ribbon. It was stamped with the same little logo that was hanging over a small shop in the centre of town. A shop only the locals knew about.

  “So you’re one of us,” Hannah mumbled. One of her own. She shifted her jaw in thought. Her anger dwindled at the thought of someone she grew up with being the one behind this, and she thought they would have come out and talked to her. What was the point of hiding behind ribbons and gifts?

  They held all the power, or at least they thought they did. Hannah felt they were being a coward—embracing the darkness but hiding it at the same time. Smart, but dishonourable in her eyes.

  Still, a slight against Mariana, no matter how disloyal the woman was, was a slight against herself. Hannah had no choice but to follow the instructions, and do exactly as the killer wanted.

  Hannah found herself walking on her toes, nerves settled in. Her hands were fisted in her pockets, and while she was moving quickly she felt like she needed to move faster. She had to check her reflection in each store she passed just to make sure she was in as much control of her body as she always was; and each time she check, she found she was the visage of the woman she always appeared to be, going to an unknown location. Nobody around her would be able to guess she was headed to a rendezvous with a killer. A killer that had her best friend in their clutches.

  In the back of her mind Hannah was still working through the possible scenarios she could come upon. Perhaps Mariana wasn’t actually taken, and the earring was a ruse. Perhaps she was already dead and the perpetrator intended the same fate for Hannah. Perhaps Father Tompkins was the one behind all of this; since the note had said Dane was cleansed, and she was now heading for the church. Perhaps Mariana was behind everything.

  Hannah found herself kind of liking that thought.

  Not knowing, however, was killing Hannah. It had been fun for a short while but now she hated how vulnerable it made her. She swore that when this was over she would always make sure she was the one in control—starting with convincing the town that she wasn’t a threat.

  Hannah’s heels clicked against the concrete and each one felt like an announcement of her presence. She rounded the street corner and came upon the church, the point looming overhead. The small cross at the very top wasn’t doing anyone in this town any good, it seemed, least of all Hannah. But she found it comforting that it was still standing, and she stepped towards the church.

  There was nobody around so late at night, and Hannah didn’t worry about looking over her shoulder. The church was always open in Garnet’s Lake, and anyone that might see her could draw their own conclusion as to why she was there. Nobody would guess the truth.

  The large door creaked as it opened, a sound that was normally drowned out by all the voices inside. Hannah could hear the faint sound of someone breathing—steady and calm across the room. She peered into the moonlight but didn’t see anyone. Her senses were on high alert, and she had to decipher between what she knew was there and what she assumed.

  Hannah moved forward again, letting her purse drop to the ground. Her eyes scanned the pews as she walked, heels silent against the carpet. Wings fluttered outside, casting mixed shadows across the church floor. Hannah stopped at the front of the pews.

  “You didn’t jump,” a voice said. “Interesting.”

  Hannah flinched at the sudden voice but managed to keep her face still. She turned slowly, as if she weren’t a surprise there was a person behind her. In a way she wasn’t surprised that she’d been caught off guard, but she had anticipated they would come from the side entrance not the front. It irked her, and the pinch in her chest hurt.

  “Officer Martin,” Hannah said clearl
y. Before she could inspect the officer her eyes fell to a figure in the pews. Mariana was unconscious on the bench, chest slowly rising and falling as a dried pool of blood surrounded her head like a halo.

  “She’ll be fine,” Martin said. Hannah turned to her. She was wearing her civilian clothes—a black and white striped dress with heels and makeup, her hair clipped behind her head with a sparkling pin. Martin noticed Hannah cataloguing everything. “Do you like it? I wanted to dress up—you always look so put together, even when you aren’t. I thought my uniform would fall kind of flat.”

  Hannah met her gaze. “You killed Dane.”

  “And Bart,” Martin confirmed. “I think you know why.”

  Hannah thought, but she didn’t quite understand the answer she came up with. “Because they hurt me.”

  Martin nodded and moved until she was a foot away from Hannah. With her heels on they were almost the same height, but she still had to tilt her head up to properly look Hannah in the eyes. “Are you happy?”

  “Happy?” Hannah repeated.

  “Not with what I did,” Martin clarified, “but with your life. You can’t be—we’re one in the same. Once you accept it it’s easier to understand. Easier to accomplish what you want.”

  There was a brief moment when Hannah thought she could keep going at her life like she always had and things would remain the same. That her parent’s and Mariana and the rest of Garnet’s Lake would soon understand she was the victim of a heinous crime and accept her again. That she would get another job and continue on as society intended. But looking into Martin’s dark brown eyes now she realized she could still have that…and something else.

  “I’m still coming to terms with it,” Hannah said. She shuffled the pocketknife out of her sleeve quickly and drew her hand towards Martin’s throat.

  Martin caught Hannah’s wrist without blinking, the knife an inch away from her throat. Their hands shook in the struggle for power, neither of them giving up but also not trying as much as they could to win. “You like blood, so I thought you might bring a knife.” She pushed Hannah’s arm away and in her surprise Hannah stumbled backwards. How could Martin have seen that coming?