by Maria Siopis
It finally hit Fiona. Sophie was jealous. She recalled that night not long ago, when her partner and Sophie came to her apartment in the middle of the night. Jennifer had stayed over, and when she emerged from Fiona’s bedroom wearing only her shirt it had raised questions. Logically, Sophie had assumed that Jennifer was her girlfriend. Why else would she exit her bedroom half naked? She placed the papers on the coffee table and laid down next to her. She put her arms around Sophie, pulled her close, and kissed her, trying to erase all thoughts of the past. Fiona only wanted Sophie. When she thought of her, her heart danced the rumba. There was no doubt in her mind that there was some serious chemistry between them.
“Yes, that’s my only contact, and I assure you that nothing is going on. Jennifer is the past, and you are my future.”
She was finally able to articulate it. She was shocked when she spoke the words aloud and indirectly told Sophie how she felt about her. She had to shut her mouth before she said too much. It was too early to confess feelings that she didn’t fully understand herself. But sleeping with Sophie was more than just a grand experience, and the erotic interaction between them was still vivid and fresh in her mind. She kissed her again as if to expunge the feelings she had revealed just seconds ago. The urgency to make out with her and take her had burned out two days ago, and it was replaced with a grandiose yearning. She wanted to slowly savor all the parts of her body until her desire became unbearable. At that precise moment, she began to nibble the base of her neck, biting and tasting the sweetness that seeped from Sophie. Either her mind was playing games or Sophie did indeed taste like créme brûlée ... crispy, soft and sweet.
“It’s getting late. I have to go.” Sophie didn’t mean it, and she didn’t make any attempt to free herself from Fiona.
“I’m holding you captive until all my demands are met.”
Fiona undid the shirt Sophie was wearing. She captured her nipple in her mouth, squeezing gently, brushing her tongue over it, and then engulfing it. She felt the nipple enlarging and it made her hum with pleasure. Sophie joined in, mumbling incoherently. Fiona only heard harmonious sounds that made her lose what little control she had over her own needs. She wanted to fall into Sophie’s abyss now, plummet into her and feel her inner walls pulsate. Her own clit was throbbing painfully, seeking release, yet she directed her attention to the center of Sophie’s sweetness where her juices were so welcoming. Fiona gently inserted her finger ever so slightly into Sophie’s softness to tease her and then pulled it out, suspending her as if in air. How was it possible to feel like the earth was spinning out of control? What was it about Sophie that made her want to forget her notion about not getting involved with anyone in the law enforcement business? Her whole body was on fire; it felt like she was being devoured by orange flames. She kissed Sophie’s mouth, their tongues mingling, exploring her hidden corners and forgetting all about the sexual movement. It was like whispering to her wordlessly about how well their pieces fit together. It didn’t matter who Fiona was, where she was going, or how she looked. The emotion trickled down over Fiona, but still she couldn’t put it into words. It felt easier to believe a lie than to admit her true emotions. The sexual desire she could accept, it was harmless. The feelings she’d had for Sophie from the first time she met her were dangerous and hard to understand. Of course, she could still deny it and punch holes into a theory as old as humanity itself ... the theory of love at first sight. Fiona let all thoughts drain from her mind and climbed on top of Sophie where they discovered their pace, perfectly in sync with each other and perfectly in control. Now, her mind was completely empty. She experienced this pleasant interaction that threatened to take over and frantically send Fiona over the edge where nothing else existed. Did she realize the perfection of the moment? Perhaps. When she finally collapsed on Sophie the idea began to take shape.
Fiona got ready much faster now that her desire had quieted down a little, and she retreated into silence. It was like something else was circulating in the air, an idea that she was afraid to vocalize. She passively kissed Sophie goodbye and agreed to meet in the precinct when she was done with a few errands. Fiona felt guilty for being so vague with Sophie. Her intent was to call Jennifer, hoping she was in the city, so she could go over to visit and extract the information she needed. It wasn’t necessary to reveal everything to Sophie, yet Fiona felt like she was doing something wrong. Nevertheless, she called Jennifer’s office when she got to work and waited while her mind registered the number of times the ringer went off.
“Agent Miller. How can I help you?” She didn’t recognize Fiona’s number? Jennifer was so predictable when answering her phone. But how else was Fiona expecting her to answer?
“Oh, you are in the city,” Fiona said, her voice indicating neither disappointment or regret.
“Yes, I am.”
“If you aren’t busy, I would like to stop by your office. There are some new developments in the Queens’ case, and I would like your input.”
“I’m always busy. You can stop by before lunch. I have meetings after one.”
“Okay, see you then.”
She made it to Jennifer’s office before eleven, and after obtaining clearance, she took the elevator to the seventeenth floor. It was a well-organized building with security layers that impressed Fiona. It was her first visit to Jennifer’s workplace. It occurred to Fiona that previously, it had always been Jennifer coming to her. Of course, it was an arrangement that they both enjoyed in the past. She was bothered in the beginning when Jennifer terminated their hook ups. She tried to remember how long the feeling lasted. It was a hot second and Sophie had a lot to do with that.
Jennifer was on the phone and looking out her floor-to-ceiling windows. She appeared a bit animated, like something was going on. She still looked sexy in her tight jeans that engulfed her body so precisely. Jennifer sensed her gaze. She was sure of it because right at that moment, she turned and looked at her. She gestured with her hand for Fiona to enter, and before she had time to settle in, she’d hung up the phone. She came around her desk and hugged her.
“Still working out?” Jennifer surely felt Fiona’s hard body against hers.
“Yes, daily. So, how’ve you been?”
“All is well. I’m getting married in a month.”
“Excited?”
“Yes, he is a good man.”
Jennifer was leaning forward with her arms crossed on her chest, sitting on the edge of her desk. She was close in proximity, intending to reassure herself she had made the right decision, Fiona took the opportunity to embrace her again.
“I’m happy for you.”
“Me too. What about you? Anyone?” Fiona sensed her eagerness to know.
“Well, yes. The detective.” She didn’t have to give her more details. Jennifer had jokingly told her that Sophie would never be her type. Fiona recalled the night they both met for a second time. Sophie was wearing a baseball hat, jeans, and a long-sleeved top, and she looked gorgeous. Her green eyes were like minty leaves floating on a tranquil pond, her olive skin completed her image, and her thin figure was delicious. Fiona was hooked that night, and perhaps, Jennifer had sensed it.
“So, how can I help you?” Jennifer asked, destroying Sophie’s image in seconds.
“Are you familiar with Horton’s Spatial Positioning?”
“Yes, I know the program and the agent who invented it.”
“We used it, and it showed commonalities among all six victims. One common factor was the FDA ....”
“FDA as in Food and Drug Administration?” She sounded surprised as well.
“I know, it’s weird. If I give you the names, could you look. FDA data is classified.”
“Of course. I’ll look right now.”
She tapped a few times on her keyboard and then input the data. Her screen was consumed by designs and bright colors in rapid succession and then, the characters formed some of the results. Her computer was much faster than Phil’s laptop. Yet,
the FDA wasn’t mentioned in any threads.
“It usually takes a day to make connections. I’ll run it in its entirety, and if there is a connection to the FDA, it will detect it,” she reassured her.
“Phil’s laptop, he’s Sophie’s partner, detected the common thread almost instantly, and he worked the details for hours as the program continued its operation. He found it odd that their names appeared on an FDA list and slaved to get more information, but as I said, the documents were classified. I’m a bit surprised the link does not appear on your screen. Could you access the FDA’s direct database?”
“I could. Hold on for a second.”
She opened a program that Fiona didn’t recognize, then input the names once more. The results screen indicated that the names were unknown to the FDA.
“What the fuck? That doesn’t make sense!”
“Are you sure that HSP furnished results indicating that the FDA was a direct link?”
“Yes.” She retrieved the results from her coat pocket and gave it to Jennifer. The linkage was evident.
“You’re right. I know someone who is involved with a panel of the FDA, Matthew Callagan, my fiancé,” she blared out in an overconfident voice.
“The doctor?”
“Yes. He doesn’t practice medicine anymore. He is on the panel that approves or rejects new drugs that come on the market. He will know, and I’m sure he can get an answer for you.”
She dialed his number. They exchanged a few loving remarks and she straightforwardly asked him about the names. It was quiet on the other end of the phone for a few seconds, and then, the sound of a voice that was almost inaudible came through. Jennifer nodded a few times in understanding and then replaced the phone on its base.
“He checked. The names are not anywhere in the FDA’s data. Probably, it was a mistake. Don’t forget that Horton’s is a new program and there are still glitches that need to be corrected. I’ll be in New York until the holidays. Call me if you need anything else.” She stood up from her desk.
Fiona cuddled her again, kissed her forehead like a good friend, and turned to leave.
“I’ll pick his brain again, and I’ll do the research I promised you a while back. I’ll go through our profiles and determine if the Queens’ assailant is a woman.”
Fiona smiled at her and closed the door while her mind was trying to figure out why the FDA might be involved.
Chapter Seventeen
Dr. Taylor would contemplate his options before he implemented a strategy, and since the events were of a pressing matter, he would move forward with a plan. Andrea had no doubt he would be diplomatic and conceal the true reasoning of his questioning in such a way that everything would resemble a normal session.
“How do you feel?” he asked, and Andrea was instantly annoyed.
“I’m well. Never felt better, thank you.” She had to be careful with her answers. Eagerness to confirm her well-being could be interpreted as a change, and a change wasn’t a good thing. She had to appear normal, no highs or lows to be displayed in any way.
“What makes you feel better now as opposed to how you felt before?”
Fuck! Getting caught now would destroy all she had accomplished in the past twenty years. Could she pacify him and get out of this difficult situation?
“You keep me busy, and it seems from now on, we’ll be even more busy. I like being occupied and involved in your project, and most importantly, I look forward to seeing the final results.”
“Yes, we are almost there. Any abnormalities to report? Maybe a headache or a change in the velocity of the discharge?” He was going too far by asking these questions. Did he know?
“None. I do get a headache now and then, and yes, the velocity of the discharge is great. Be assured, I’m used to it by now, and it only lasts for a few seconds.”
“How is the pattern of your thoughts?” This question did trigger some bells and whistles. He had stopped asking about this years ago; he most certainly knew something. He had called her yesterday. She knew because her phone registered the missed call. The doctor was desperate and careless.
“If I say the pattern of my thoughts has been the same for the last twenty years, it would be a lie.” She had to answer in a way that demonstrated she was comfortable discussing it, and at the same time, she wished to bait him. She would lure him to divulge his great knowledge. And when she finally looked up, the answer was there on his face.
“Oh, Doctor, my thoughts are exactly the same,” she laughed, and the sounds filled the room.
“That’s good,” he uttered with relief. It was not her imagination.
“Enough about me. I’m good.” She had to reassure him. “Yesterday I finished all the printouts and analyzed the patterns. The reports and data appear to be as expected. You should stop worrying so much.”
The idea of her involvement in the killing was ridiculous, at least that was what she needed the doctor to think until it was over. The countdown had started. Andrea got up and left his office. The plan for the grand demise wasn’t just an entity in the back of her mind. It had now moved up to the number one spot on her to-do list, and time was running out quickly. Dr. Taylor must have identified some discrepancies; otherwise he wouldn’t have questioned the stream of her thoughts. He hadn’t done that for years, and their sessions were always about work, not the state of her mind. She pushed the button calling the elevator and stepped in, pressing the B button. She glared at her faint image on the stainless-steel doors. She was fuller in the lower half of her body than the upper. She barely recalled her image eons ago. Fuzzy memories of her previous life washed over her. On second thought, her life was disconnected like scenes from a bad movie where the editor became over-creative and leapt from one picture to the other in a disjointed way. She remembered her ex-husband clearly, with his oversized glasses and his thick eyebrows like her son’s.
The doors opened, revealing an empty lab now that all the blusterous commotion of human interaction was gone. The talent and the scientists were all gone. The research was shifted to the new facilities for mass production, but the final chapter was still there in that dark place where her last twenty years had been spent. She would like to enter the control room in front of her and tap the keyboard, releasing the beast on all the subjects who carried the device, even her own son. She stepped out of the elevator, making a left and following the corridor to her office. The door was wide open, and the reports with the data listing the brain waves of all the subjects were piled in a tray. The analysis was done, and ready for Dr. Taylor, who looked at the report like he didn’t trust her ... or was it his meticulous perfectionism? Perhaps he was a good candidate for the device? she thought.
She inspected the room as if it was the last time. Her naughty and dangerously tense bric-a-brac that were consistent with her personality were hidden in her drawer. There were pictures and articles that reminded her of female killers. They were not really killers, she argued internally. They were thrill seekers and adjusters of life, who were chosen to complete a mission. She sat down, retrieved her keys from her pants’ pocket, and unlocked the drawer to uncover all her loved ones. Her heart skipped a beat over Elizabeth Báthony, who was accused of the death of hundreds and hundreds of young ladies of the lower nobility in her castle in Hungary. And Aileen Woornos who was labeled as a serial killer for killing a mere seven men. Though her direction was wrong, she still had a soft spot in her heart for Aileen. She finally locked her drawer again and picked up the phone. She had to talk to her contact sooner rather than later.
Before the greeting was formed, she barked, “Dr. Taylor knows something is up.”
“Of course, he knows.” His calm voice infuriated her. “It’s all over the news. The police seem to be desperate to apprehend you, and they are finally using the media for leads.”
“Did they release any details?”
“A few details and the victims’ names,” he paused before the next statement was uttered. “Evidently, we
don’t have much time, and although I would love to facilitate your fantasies further, it seems impossible. You have to do it soon ... very soon.”
“I know. I’m aware of the time constraints. I’m doing it for my son.” Her voice was full of emotions. “He gets off on the crime scenes, and I’m hoping for just a bit more.”
“There isn’t any time left. I’m thinking tonight. Is anyone there?”
“No.”
“Then pull the trigger and input the code.”
“Tonight then.” She finally exhaled. The air left her lungs slowly as if she was disappointed. She should be elated.
She didn’t have to ask what was going to happen when she pulled the trigger. She already knew. The beast would come out of her in all its glory because she had it in her. It was lurking, waiting for the right moment to take full control and dominate her. She wouldn’t let it control her entirely. She had other plans, and she would try to eradicate it in her own way. Nevertheless, the command was written with her contact’s guidance. It was a command to sacrifice the near and dear. She was still baffled with the command because it copied the style of another killer. In any case, she did her part and prepared the scene, little by little, with her previous prey until the sacrifice was complete. Did she know who she was going to sacrifice? Yes, it was the only image she carried in her soul and heart. The other carriers of the device would find their own.
She thought about her contact and how much he knew about her. She had never met him. He had somehow observed her throughout her whole life, almost as if she was living in a glass house. He knew all the details of her likes, her dislikes, and the beast. He funneled her energy in a different direction, and he undid Dr. Taylor’s work in a matter of minutes. She was not regretting anything since the killings made her euphoric, increasing her desires in an insatiable way. She thought about them all the time. When the desires bubbled to the top again, her contact told her to think about the killings she had committed. She only hoped and prayed that the lust wasn’t fading as rapidly and the smell of the blood wasn’t calling her as mercifully.