Shaking her head, she absorbed the town scenery nearing the familiar neighborhood.
She assumed that as she got older and matured, dating would come easier, but that was not the case. Lauren knew she was a competitive person, always trying to be number one or feeling she had something to prove. It was a constant feeling and personality trait that even to this date revealed its evil head and made her push herself even farther.
She wasn't complaining about it because she knew determination was what made her achieve her current professional position. It was when there was no need and no room for that competitiveness that it seemed to ruin a potentially promising relationship. She had always been more mature and she knew she expected a lot out of a relationship and in a man.
Maybe someone older would offer more ... she pushed the thoughts of a relationship out of her head. There was no more room on her plate. She didn't even have enough time to visit with family and make plans to hang out with friends. Her parents, and her brother David, were all over her case for not returning calls or missing Sunday dinners. She sighed as she thought about the family and the good times they always had when everyone was together.
Those were the days and she missed not living too close to her family and her childhood friends, but she had decided she needed her own life, her own reputation in law enforcement to establish, and without her father's help. Her dad understood that. He respected her decision to join the NYPD instead of taking a position locally.
Besides the fact she'd always feel the locals would think she hadn't earned the right to be there, that her father pulled some strings while others, who didn't know someone in law enforcement with pull, had to sit back and wait their turn on the list.
No way! She was her own woman, and she was more than capable of handling the ‘job.'
Lauren smiled as she approached Upper River Point, where the town's cleanup crews were cleaning the streets already from the morning parade. Still, the lawn to the town hall was crowded with people and many visitors still walked the parade route enjoying the warm, sunny day.
It was nearly 5:30 p.m. when Lauren pulled her car onto the crowded side street. The Mardullo house swarmed with people. There were cops, firemen, and military men, some dressed in uniform and others in plain clothes. The smoke from the six large barbecues in the backyard was in plain view from the front sidewalk. When Lauren finally found a spot up the block and began walking toward the party, she smelled the delicious food and heard the loud music.
There was a lot to celebrate today, and even though the current homicides she worked on were laying a toll on her mind and her spirit, she embraced seeing her family and friends. They were celebrating Jimmy's return from Iraq as well as honoring all the brave men and women who had given their lives to secure our freedom.
"Holy shit! Is that the famous NYPD detective in the flesh? How nice of you to honor us with your presence!” Alex, Victoria Mardullo's cousin, yelled from the front lawn. Everyone looked, adding similar amusing comments before embracing her, then practically carried her to the backyard where the rest of the family was.
Lauren laughed, enjoying the upbeat mood and the sanctity of family.
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Chapter 5
He sat in his small apartment in Creek Valley, practically drooling over the little trinkets from his victims.
He had covered them in red velvet, kept them safe under his bed, and now reminisced about each kill.
"The lovely Tammy, so shy and reserved.” He hummed to the music, as he held the gold ID bracelet in his hand, and brushed the dry, blood-stained panties. He recalled the curves of her body, and the sound of whimpering. Her skin so creamy and white. He remembered her smelling of roses and water. The smile formed on his lips, and the old rock and roll music played in the background.
His apartment was decorated with the fifties’ style theme. He glanced over to the corner of the room, where his eight-foot, classic jukebox played In the Still of the Night. The shades that covered the window of his sixth floor apartment stayed closed tight. He wanted to block out the world, the sounds of present day, and enjoy his weekend off.
No deliveries today. He made sure of that this week by getting all his deliveries finished early and ahead of schedule.
The small restaurant supply company he worked for now delivered to restaurants outside of Yonkers and the Bronx. There were three new fifties-style restaurants and bars in the Stone County area. He had checked them out personally, and had his sights on a few prospects.
Loud voices interrupted his thoughts. Voices yelled in the hallway and he tried to ignore them.
It was no use and he banged his fist down on the kitchen table. The trinkets jumped from their spots as he hurriedly but in gentleness repositioned them.
The voices, language foreign to his ears, slowly disappeared down the outside hallway.
He refocused his attention on his treasures and admired his favorite so far. The necklace with the letter ‘S’ designed in all tiny white pearls, his precious queen, who had yet to be outdone.
He couldn't believe the memory had passed its four-year anniversary two weeks ago. Her shoulder-length, golden-blond hair, the clean crisp uniform she wore, and that helpful, gentle smile he was sure had the power to heal so many. He wanted to capture that smile, that innocence and love of mankind and keep it for his own. At the time, he was so nervous, afraid he could be caught any moment, that he rushed the whole thing.
He sought out others since her, in hopes of maintaining his patience despite his needs, so their time together would last longer.
Now deeper, more creative fantasies emerged in his mind. Only someone strong and youthful could withstand the pain, and the process he would so tediously embark on. Minutes and hours were no longer acceptable. He wanted more, he needed more, but the memory of his first kill, he would hold deep inside his heart and mind.
He tried to locate someone to honor her and replace the memory with someone better, but Renee didn't come through as he had hoped. Nor did Tammy really, but he wasn't about to give up.
He liked the rush too much. The thrill of the chase. The act of fulfilling each fantasy, and being able to watch his acts over and over again.
The videos he rented, or bought from some of the surrounding X-rated shops, couldn't compare to the ones he made himself.
The music had to be just right. The clothes had to be perfect, right down to the black and white Hush Puppies shoes, and tiny pompom topped shoelaces.
Again, he smiled as he danced to the music, filled with feelings of success, pride, and perfection.
There was no one better than him. He knew everything about the era, about the clothing, and the styles.
She hammered it into his head as a child. His mother would dress in her long, blue poodle skirt, tie her hair in a ponytail clasped with a sheer blue scarf, then play the old forty-fives over and over again, forcing him to dance until she was practically holding him up.
Then she would drink in between and abuse him.
He hated her so.
He hated how she would act so innocent, so proper with family and friends, then act disgusting when her men callers came. He would get locked in the bedroom, but he still heard the acts through the walls.
She was nothing. Just a slut, a whore, and so were these women.
They were playing a role—pretending to be so innocent and shy, but he knew better. He knew the truth, and forced them to reveal their true identities. They would play his games, sing with him, dance with him, and willingly participate.
The thoughts caused his body to react. He could feel the desire, the need for another victim to fulfill and satisfy every sensation that flowed through his body.
Tonight, he would head up north.
He took one last look at his treasures, then carefully folded the red velvet. Tying the light blue sheer scarf over it, he carried it to his bedroom. He needed to pack a small bag, just a few things to stay at his little hideaway
up north.
He dropped the keys to his special place on the floor. His fingers, his body, already shook with anticipation and excitement.
A silly giggle escaped his lips, as he looked in the mirror, wanting to record every moment from commencement to conclusion.
He was handsome and young, in need of a shave, but young women seemed to be attracted to the rough, tough, edgy style of the look.
The weather was much too warm for a leather jacket, and he knew his body was what immediately caught the attention of his victims. He carefully rolled the t-shirt up, causing his already bulging muscles to look more defined but slightly hidden.
The waist of his blue jeans hugged his hips, showing off the indentation below each hipbone, then the perfect, rounded ridges of his muscular belly. He admired himself in the mirror.
He ran his fingers through his black hair that was a little long in the front. He had a special way of letting a few black locks brush over his deep jade green eyes, just so, as he flirted.
His teeth were perfectly white, which he admired with an approving smile.
Tonight was as perfect a time as any. It would take him a good thirty-five minutes to get up north. He could be in the parking lot of the Twist and Shout nightclub and restaurant by 8:00 p.m.
Reminding himself he just needed one last thing, he pulled some money from the drawer and made a quick phone call to his supplier. He needed Liquid X, and he needed it fast.
Planning in his mind to make the short stop on his way, anticipation flowed through his body. Tonight, he would be with victim number four. For a moment, he felt nervous about getting the drugs. He remembered the one time he got busted, and winced. The repercussions would be devastating if he were to get caught tonight. Recalling the narrow escape he had a year back, perspiration moistened his brow. Thanks to a good lawyer, he got off with two days in jail and attending a drug program. Being the optimistic person that he is, he saw a positive in the whole ordeal.
That's how he became more educated on the numerous names for the date rape drug, and its success of being undetected.
Not wanting to take any unnecessary chances and risk getting caught, he would make sure to get enough of a supply this time. He had his fantasies to fulfill and some new ideas emerged during the last week. Just maybe he was in the market for something a little different.
He wanted a challenge, a fight, and a struggle. It turned him on. He wanted it, and that was precisely what he would get, tonight.
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Chapter 6
Ken Murphy opened the door to Hennessey's old Irish pub in downtown Ridgeburgh. The daylight from outside illuminated the pub, and all eyes turned toward the doorway. Some of the regulars squinted with annoyed looks on their faces, until they recognized Ken.
"Hey there, laddy,” the bartender yelled, and Ken gave a wave to the old timer named Patrick.
The bar had been in the Hennessey family for twenty years. It had the reputation of making the best burgers in town, never mind an award-winning corn beef and cabbage meal.
Ken waved at a few other patrons then walked directly to Eddie, who sat at his spot in the corner. Eddie looked up from his beer and burger, smiling.
"I tried to wait for you, partner, but you're thirty minutes late.” Eddie gave him a hard time. Just teasing him a little, like usual.
"Bullshit! You said 1:00 p.m., 12:30p.m.,” Ken argued, as he slid into the old, grass green leather booth.
"Hirs ya beer, Kenny, me boy,” Patrick interrupted, in a distinct Irish brogue. He placed the coaster down first, then the beer.
"Thanks, Pat. Can you put in a burger for me? Rare, please,” Ken said.
"Already in. It will be ready in a snap.” Patrick stood there, smiling. He was a likable man, in his late sixties, with dark red hair and a face full of freckles. He was tall, like Eddie, standing over 6 ft, and built like a bulldog.
"So, ya haven't been round in a while, Kenny. I her you've been real busy with the lassies. Have ya fund tat special one yet?” Patrick asked and Eddie laughed.
"Maybe,” Ken added with confidence, and Eddie gave him a funny look.
"Who would that be?” Eddie replied sarcastically, as he lifted the burger to his mouth.
"The gorgeous and sexy Detective Lauren Phelps, my man."
He dropped his burger back down on his plate, then fell back against the booth.
"Who are you kidding? She showed no interest whatsoever.” He sounded rather annoyed, and both Ken and Patrick appeared to notice. Eddie quickly glanced away.
"Her toes! Did you see those beautiful toes? She's perfect."
"She laughed at you, Ken, when you snuck your home telephone number to her, remember?"
"She's just a little shy, a little reserved, that's all. We were talking before you rudely interrupted us."
Eddie rolled his eyes, while Patrick listened.
"Oh, yeah. You don't want to talk about that right? That's when you rudely interrupted us, called her a bimbo, then continued to act like a jerk.” Ken sneered.
"Sounds like tis lassie cot me boy off guad? What dus tis Lauren look like?"
"She's gorgeous, Pat, a classy, young woman with long brown hair, big bold green eyes, and a body ... mmmm.” Ken closed his eyes, obviously fantasizing.
"And a cop, a detective ta boot?” Patrick sounded rather surprised.
"A damn good detective, with a perfect record and is very well respected,” Eddie said.
Both Patrick and Ken eyed Eddie in obvious surprise. They exchanged glances with one another, then looked back at him.
"And how would you know that?” Ken asked.
"Listen, if we're going to be working a case with someone outside the jurisdiction and the city no less, then I want to know that she's more than capable of handling things."
"What else did you find out about her?” Ken asked and he could tell Eddie was getting annoyed, but he didn't care.
Ken had the feeling that both Lauren and Eddie were attracted to one another. He witnessed first hand the small glance exchanged, and the rushing flow of blood to each of their cheeks. His gut had proven correct, now that Eddie admitted to checking her out.
"She's a bit on the young side but has a lot of cases under her belt."
"She sunds fuscinatin, Eddie. Ya shud bring the lass by here sum time, so I can meet ter.” Patrick tossed the white dishtowel over his shoulder.
Eddie lost some coloring in his cheeks as he leaned back against the booth before turning away. The comment seemed to hit a bad chord with Eddie.
Both Ken and Patrick noticed it. Patrick placed his hand on Eddie's shoulder. “It's been fer yers, Eddie. I tink it fer you move on now. If it's me blessin ya need I've tird you a tousand times...” Patrick began to say, but Eddie cut him off.
"Don't go there, Patrick,” Eddie snapped, and the three men were quiet a moment.
"It's not like you're cheating on—"
"Don't!"
The moment was intense, and Ken didn't know what to say, until Eddie softly apologized. Patrick patted Eddie on the shoulder, then went back to the bar, looking a bit more somber than before.
* * * *
From the bar, Patrick watched his son-in-law, Eddie, closely as he spoke with his partner, at the booth. Patrick wished Eddie could move on with his personal life. He was still young, at forty, and very good-looking.
Patrick knew Eddie had loved his daughter, Sarah, with all his heart. Patrick thought his daughter had a wonderful husband, and Eddie was a son-in-law and husband to be proud of.
However, Eddie just couldn't get over Sarah's murder. Somehow, he blamed himself.
He wished Eddie could open his heart up to another woman again, but she would have to be special, and damn tough to get through that wall he built around his heart. Damn tough. He slowly wiped down the bar with the rag and refilled another mug of beer for his friend Brian.
* * * *
Ken felt bad for his partner and friend and f
igured there was only one thing to do now that his burger arrived. A subject change would do the trick.
"So, the real reason I'm a few minutes late is that I spoke with someone from the lab. We got a make of the vehicle from the tire track that was left behind.” Ken sunk his teeth into the juicy cheeseburger. He was starving.
"That's good. So what kind of truck was it?"
Ken took a moment to chew his food and swallow before answering. “Basically, it's your typical delivery box truck with a twenty-two point five tire size. The height has to be around 12.5 in. The pictures and measurements taken at the crime scene of the broken tree branches, along with the tire marks, are consistent with the height and weight of the vehicle, and tire type."
"Well, depending on where the truck may be registered, we could just put out an APB and general description of that vehicle for officers in the surrounding area to keep a look out. There are probably hundreds of them out there."
"We should call Detective Phelps and let her know what we got. Maybe it can help in her case, as well?"
"Sure, give her a call and let her know,” Eddie added, then took a sip of his beer.
Ken offered Eddie his cell phone. “Why don't you call her. I know you want to."
"I don't know what you're talking about. Just cool it."
Ken laughed, then dialed the number. He had already put Lauren's cell phone number in his speed dial. Eddie gave him a ‘you've got to be kidding me’ kind of look.
"Hey, a guy's got to have his fantasies.” Winking at Eddie, Ken waited for Lauren to answer her phone.
* * * *
Lauren was speaking with Lieutenant McNulty when her cell phone rang. She was at the 53rd Precinct talking to Tom McNulty about their case. Glancing down at the Caller ID, she saw it was Detective Murphy, Ridgeburgh P.D. “Excuse me one second while I take this."
Tom nodded, then leaned against the desk.
Lauren listened to the new information from Detective Kafrey. “So this could be our suspect's vehicle?"
Lauren Page 5