Rainy Fall

by Claudio Hernández

  "She was going to a birthday party when the murderer and rapist grabbed her from behind. Everything is mixed up; it is coming to my mind as she is remembering it...

  "She?" Ethan's voice was about to make him loose his focus. "She is dead." He was intending to laugh, but Charlotte nudged him again and he changed his mind. He felt like a rabbit surrounded by hungry wolves.

  "He is a very strong man. He is a heavy set man, he is tall and he is not speaking. He is full of hatred and I am now seeing him through her eyes. The girl is terrified, her eyes wide open, and she has lost one shoe. He has seen it but he doesn't stop. The shoe is still on the street.

  Burt was restless, he couldn't stop moving and touching his moustache.

  "Come on, Peter, you are close now" he whispered, and Ethan couldn't help letting out a giggle. Burt frowned and his lips formed a tight line, like a zipper. He was glaring at him, and Ethan stopped laughing.

  Afterwards, Peter took a leap in time, he could not see anything. He was there, where they were now, on one side of the road; there was still some light and the clouds could be still seen. The dim light let him see a breast like a lemon, standing erect. He dragged her up to the river and then he plunged her into the water flow. He could not determine the exact timing of the events, but he was quite sure it had happened that very evening, while they were with Bob the fool, or maybe, even a little earlier. Yes, it had probably happened earlier. And then Peter found a new element in his shine: He knew now what the killer was thinking. The damned man had thought about his lung cancer. He was dying. He could see that the killer was choosing them at random, but they were all from News Academy High School. He could see it clearly, so he was sure that the next girl would be one those girls who were studying there. He did not see any new face. Now he saw him lifting the cross towards the sky, which could have been dangerous if a ray was attracted by the metallic cross, but that did not happen. He slipped her pants off, and then he introduced the longest part of the cross into her body, pushing hard, which made Natalie bleed profusely and scream on top of her lungs in that quiet road. Then Mike arrived.

  “He knows he is dying! He chooses them at random, but all of them go to News Academy! He uses the same method as Reverend Larry to kill them, but this one makes them bleed to death! He is in a hurry and he is going after another girl!” Peter had stood up and he was hysterical. Burt hugged him and patted his back, whispering something in his ear which calmed him down a little.

  “Peter, you shouldn’t go through these difficult moments. I’d understand it if you want to leave.”

  But Peter had promised he would go on.

  Now he could see and hear the killer’s inner voice.

  All of them stood there petrified.

  Ethan burst out laughing and Burt pushed him aside.

  49

  Ann was still wide awake like an owl. His swollen eyes could not see now the water coming in through the splintered glass. Of course, she did not know what was going on the other side of Boad Hill. Channel Five was on, but she was not watching it. She could only listen to the drone of the voices and watching the street lights drawing strange figures on the ceiling. She was scared, because something inside her was telling her that there was somebody trying to get near her, and it wasn’t Peter.

  50

  “William, you have some work to do tonight, man. Do you remember the panties and the bra?”

  “Of course, Burt, what’s going on?”

  “Well, there is another victim. The killer seems to be working overtime. He is breathing down our necks, running right under our noses. Apparently he is dying of cancer...

  “How do you know it?” William cut off.

  “It is very difficult to explain. I just want you to analyze the blood I sent to you, together with the corpse and the underwear; try to find if there are any malignant cells.”

  “When did you send them?”

  “The ambulance is coming. I guess it will take it less than an hour to arrive here. Focus on the blood and investigate it thoroughly. You can call me any time. I will be awake.” But he thought then that he would be drinking beer until he burst.

  “Ok” William said, and then he hung up.

  Burt kept his mobile phone in his pocket again and he watched the ambulance coming closer, with its lights on like a carousel, until he could hear the wheels sliding in the water until they finally stopped.

  51

  Ann surrendered to her sleep and she had nightmares. She had seen the man with the raincoat, grabbing her ankle and pulling her. The man had no face. There was a soft and pinky skin instead. Then she woke up swearing. She looked at her watch on the bedside table. It was 4:32.

  Outside, the storm raged incessantly, rattling on the wooden roof.

  52

  Burt’s telephone rung around 04:35, with a roaring noise, that made the television sounds fade away. Burt jumped up from the couch. He was awake, but he had had already two cans of beer. He had urinated dozens of times, but he always had the phone with him just in case William called with an answer.

  “William, did you get everything?”

  “Yes, I will.”

  “Give me some good news, William. Bad news is the least I want right now.”

  “You talk funny. Are you all right?”

  “I just had a dozen of beers” Burt answered, laying down a big belch that casted a shadow on their conversation.

  “Bloody state security” William taunted. “Yes, I have something to tell you.”

  “What is it?” Burt dropped the can of beer on the couch before receiving the news.

  “How did you know he was dying?”

  “I cannot tell you.”

  “Does it have something to do with that guy who sees things?”

  “Maybe”

  “Don’t be stupid, Burt.”

  “Just tell me what you found.”

  There was a long silence where only the raindrops could be heard. Finally, William’s voice answered:

  “I have found malignant cells. He has cancer, Burt.”

  Burt’s lips tightened like a killer clown with a mouth painted red.

  “Bingo!”

  “But I did not find any print. It is the same modus operandi. The killer is heartless and sly.

  53

  Peter was puzzled. He had been walking all night under the rain. He was stubborn. When he got home and he saw his father sleeping on the couch with the TV on, he turned it off and then he went upstairs to take a blanket. When he covered his bony body, he looked at him sadly remembering the sharp pain he had felt in his underbelly, the blood in his fingers. He could not predict the future, but one thing was clear for him: He did not feel that strange, dense and sticky odor. That was fine. He gave him a kiss on his forehead that sounded like a suction cup, and then he went to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and grabbed the bottle of milk. He drank half the bottle without breathing. He was thirsty. Afterwards he went up to his room to try to sleep, to forget those glassy open eyes. He wanted to get some dried clothes, it was about time. Once he was in his briefs, he felt like calling Denny and telling everything, but he backed out. It was too late. So he went over his strange experiences, although they didn’t make sense to him, and then he fell asleep. That night he dreamt about Ann. He dreamt he was kissing her passionately. His lips were on hers, he was feeling butterflies in his belly and his penis was as hard as an iron bar.

  The clock read 05:10 minutes.

  That was all for the night.

  54

  The burial was two days later, because the autopsy had delayed the whole process. Natalie’s parents and siblings were a flood of tears while Reverend Samuel was offering a short mass. The coffin had been placed diagonally, as usual, in front of the first row of the church, which was occupied by the relatives. Her father, a thin man with long hair and beard, was wiping his eyes, which were bloodshot. His wife had fainted at least twice, and Samuel was trying to finish the mass service as soon as possible. Of
course, the rain had not stopped dropping on the roof of the church and the windows. They were taking leave of her before the men in black came in. She had her hands crossed on her chest, and she had held a red handkerchief that fell down on the floor when one of the mourners bent before her and it got stuck in his shirt button by accident. Peter watched that detail carefully and he led his gaze towards the handkerchief, which was being trampled all the time by those who were parading in front of the coffin. Peter approached to say his last goodbye, and then he stooped down casually to get the handkerchief. The same instant that he touched it, he felt something weird, something he could not really describe. It was as if the deceased girl had left her last memories in that handkerchief. It was impossible, but it was happening. Peter went into a trance in front of them all, but nobody noticed because it was quick as a sneeze, although he could see everything clearly. It was more or less the same scene he had seen that night while she was lying on the pavement. There was nothing new, except that rotten stench persisted. It was as if the girl was enjoying going over those moments. He wanted to remember it. The killer was choosing them at random and he had a new one in mind already. She was a blond girl with light eyes and she was wearing a pink woolen sweater. Her nails were painted pink. He was shocked, because he had got a lead now. How the hell had happened he did not know. It was the last thing he wanted to tell Natalie before going down the hole. Peter was puzzled, he thought for a moment he was going crazy, that he was becoming obsessed with his shine. But how far will he go?

  She was buried at quarter past two.

  55

  John was engrossed looking at Christie’s boobs while he was listening to the news. It was something extraordinary in Boad Hill. There was a picture of Ethan, with his everlasting and stupid smile, behind the presenter.

  “Sheriff Burt is not making any progress in the investigations of the terrible murders, he is simply not doing anything and he is not giving the media any information about them, FBI agents Ethan and Charlotte have announced they are going to take over the investigation and they are calling for cooperation of citizens to gather all the pieces of this jigsaw.” Christie’s voice sounded unusually serious, as if she was actually angry with the events. Then, Ethan’s picture filled the screen and subsequently they broadcasted a video inside the motel room.

  “Sheriff Burt has not wanted and still doesn’t want to collaborate with us. The killer is on the loose and we don’t know who the next victim will be.” Ethan’s finger pointed at the camera and he said: “Your daughter could be the next one.”

  “What are you going to do?” The journalist asked her. She was a small woman with shoulder-length hair, dark haired, who was handling a big microphone.

  “We are going to open a new line of research. I am sure we will be able to solve it, but, I insist, I need collaboration from all the citizens living in this village...”

  “Town” The journalist corrected him.

  Ethan smiled to the camera.

  “Ok. I will finish with this climate of terror and this wonderful town will be peaceful again.” His verbiage sounded like an election campaign to become Mayor or President of the United States of America. Charlotte could not be seen in the video, and they did not mention her either.

  John watched the clock and he saw it was a quarter past nine. Peter was in the kitchen cooking tomato soup.

  John changed the channel.

  56

  “Sir, Ethan has appeared on the TV!” Lloyd ranted from the other side of the counter, where he was watching a small plasma TV.

  Burt hid the can of beer behind his chair.

  “And what the fuck did he say?” Burt’s grave voice passed through the door glass and it landed on Lloyd’s ears. He was standing in front of the television.

  “He has said you are incompetent and the FBI is going to take charge.” Lloyd didn’t have to shout because Burt was leaning on the door frame.

  “He said that?” His eyes were bloodshot.

  “Yes, he did, more or less. He said it with other words, but that was the message.”

  “What a son of a bitch!” He said, and he hit the door frame with his fist. The glass tinkled like a washing machine full of glasses, but it did not break.

  57

  Ann speeded up when she felt the presence of a figure among the dark shadows, with her black umbrella waving over her head instead of protecting her from the rain. It was happening again, like that day the previous winter, when someone was stalking her with a dark raincoat in the shadows. She had gone to the supermarket to get some buns for dinner, and now she was going home. She just wanted to reach the area where the streetlights protected her with their dim light. Life is full of coincidences. It was happening again.

  But this time Ann did not drop the buns. Or had it been a bottle of milk the other time? She did not remember what it was, and she had no need to, because she was sure it was the same man, she knew he was a man judging from the shadow of his body on the ground. He was broad shouldered, tall and athletic. The raincoat covered his whole body and the raindrops chimed on him, sliding down to the ground afterwards.

  She felt her heartbeat pounding in her hand. It was like having your own heart in one hand while you watch it beating astonished, pumping faster and faster, until she felt it in her temples. Ann started sweating in her chest and her back; she felt her sweat mixing with the rain water. A gust of wind took the umbrella away from her right hand. The umbrella flew like a kite with its rods contorted, until it fell down finally, some meters away, on top of some weeds. She ran faster. She was near her house, but the figure was getting closer. She saw then something that baffled her.

  There was something shining in that figure’s face. It was a white mask with two holes that hid his attacker’s invisible eyes. Ann was two doors from her house already, so she started taking out her keys, which entangled among her trembling fingers.

  The figure stopped and Ann came into her property with one of the keys pointing to the keyhole. The figure was watching her, calmly, impassively. Ann could insert the key, and then, still trembling, turned it down making a strange metallic sound.

  The door opened and she came in without looking back, although she knew he was still there.

  He was waiting for her.

  She knew it.

  It was 21:35.

  58

  The shoe is still on the street, Peter thought sitting on a chair behind the kitchen table. His father was in front of him.

  “Peter, are you still here with me or somewhere else?”

  “The shoe; they have not found the shoe yet.”

  “Is that so important?”

  “No. The murderer uses gloves all the time. The shoe is not hard evidence. It does not help.”

  “Then eat, son, eat.” John said while he put his spoon inside his soup.

  There was a long silence and then, finally, Peter snapped.

  “I have something to tell you, dad.”

  “What is it, son? Am I going to die? Yes, I know. Like you, one day.”

  “I’m not kidding, dad.” Peter raised his hands.

  “Well, tell me now then.” His father said leaving the noisy spoon on his plate.

  “I have seen today that someone accidentally dropped the handkerchief that poor Natalie had in her hand in the coffin.”

  “You are scaring me.” His father interrupted him with wide open eyes. The light of the electric bulb reflected in his retina.

  Peter raised the other hand and now he seemed to be swimming in an invisible river, judging from the way he was moving his hands.

  “The point is that I picked it put when nobody was looking, and just when I touched it I felt something. I saw something. You know, dad... somehow, Natalie sent me a message. The killer has chosen his next victim. She is another girl from News Academy, but I just know she is blond, she has light eyes and she was wearing a pink woolen sweater when he saw her. I know it. It is very difficult to believe, but it is true.” Then, Pet
er fumbled in his pocket, which was as sticky as his hair, and then he took out the handkerchief. “This is the handkerchief.”

  His father reached out to grab it. His fingers touched a silky handkerchief but nothing else. When he saw his son’s face, he said:

  “And you know all that just by touching this?”

  Peter nodded.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Have you told the sheriff? The FBI agents babble a lot, but they have made little progress. You could save that poor girl’s life.”

  “What girl?”

  “You should tell Burt anyway.”

  They kept staring at each other uneasily.

  It was 22:13.

  59

  It wouldn’t have helped, because it would have been too late. She appeared in front of the police station door, naked, when an old woman opened the door hysterically among the guts of air and the ceaseless rain. The woman’s umbrella looked like a shotgun pointing at Burt’s office, which was empty at that moment.

  Officers Lloyd and Richard, who were on duty then, put their hands on their guns at first, but they didn’t take the gun out, fortunately. They were just shocked by the old woman yelling; however, they could understand clearly was they have just heard.

  “...There is a naked girl on the ground!!!...”

  “Calm down, madam.” Lloyd said approaching her, dragging his feet on the bright floor.

  “I don’t know if she is dead.” The old woman announced.

  Lloyd made a gesture to Richard, who now pull out his service weapon and wielded it with his two hands pointing at the door.

  “Please, sit down here in this chair, madam.” Lloyd said, holding her hand and feeling the old woman’s heart racing.

  “She is a young girl. She is lying sideways, as if she was sleeping under the rain. I think she is dead.” The woman explained, gesturing with her hands.

  Richard felt cold water pouring on his face when he opened the door. That tiring fall with its wind and rain had made it possible. At that very moment, he felt as if all the hair in his body had turned into small needles. He was still holding his weapon with trembling hands. He observed a whitish bulge. There were no bystanders at that moment around, just a figure with her back to him. It was the body of a young woman, which showed her butt crack and her curved back. Her wet hair was scattered over her shoulders and on the pavement. He could see it because the streetlamp was right there, in spite of the pouring rain that made it look like a veiled figure.