by Maria Siopis
Sophie arrived as Fiona was stretching the cords, and hearing her voice caused Fiona to do the unthinkable ... she stepped on the lights and crushed them. Sophie laughed, and although Fiona was pissed, she still hugged and kissed her, forgetting all about the Christmas decorations and melting into Sophie’s arms. Fiona wanted to stop time and remain in her lover’s warm embrace. She stayed long enough to fill her mind with images that made her blush. She let Sophie go when her mother reached the front door.
“Let me introduce you to my mother,” she whispered in her ear and pulled Sophie with her.
“Mother, this is Sophie, my girlfriend,” she uttered it like a simple fact, and she felt as if a weight was lifted from her shoulders.
“Please, come in. It’s too cold to stand by the door.”
“You are on your own,” she murmured. “I need to finish the outside lights.”
Sophie’s gaze told her what she thought of that, but Fiona was sure her girlfriend could handle an old couple fussing over ornaments and Santa Claus. She picked up the lights she had crushed to inspect the damage. She knew that going to the store in the month of December would be the worst possible scenario; the lines were vast, causing people to lose humor and display their nasty natures. She stretched out the strings of lights, minus the one she stepped on, and began the arduous task of placing them on the railings. She attempted to lengthen them by stretching the cord, hoping it would do the trick and allow her to avoid a trip to the store. Thankfully, it worked.
When Sophie came out to bring her a hot chocolate, she was all done and ready to plug the lights in. It was not a spectacular show, since she had only placed Christmas lights around the door and railings, but it worked in a simplistic way. They were magical, as they had always been for as long as she could remember. Christmas was Fiona’s favorite holiday, and this year, she thought it would be even better with Sophie in her life.
“So, how did the interview go?”
“Which one? The one I finished few seconds ago or the one with the witness?”
“Both.”
“In the first interview, I was interrogated about every aspect of my life.” The sound of her laughter filled the air. “The second interview went a bit better. Mr. Perkins, who lives across from Kelly–”
“Our first victim, you mean?” Sophie had to disassociate herself and stop using their names. One day, Fiona would tell her why. She gazed at her girlfriend, and her heartbeat increased. Sophie looked lovable holding her mug with two hands and trying to generate heat.
“Okay, our first victim. Anyway, Mr. Perkins was traveling to Florida. He had a late-night flight out, and he was waiting for a cab to take him to LaGuardia Airport. He was looking out his window when he spotted a woman approaching at a fast pace. She was carrying some type of equipment that appeared to be heavy. He expected her to stop, take a break, lift the equipment again, and resume walking. However, the woman kept her fast pace until she reached our first victim’s home. Then, she looked around and knocked at the door.”
“Did he notice any of her characteristics?”
“He couldn’t really make out the details of her face. It was well after eight, and she entered the house as soon as the door opened. He thought the woman looked older, was heavier at the bottom, and had short hair.”
“So, our killer may be that woman, and even if she isn’t, she’s still a person of interest. What are you doing tonight?” Fiona casually inquired.
“I’m going back to the office. Phil is waiting for me. Then, I’m going home because I’m totally beat.”
“I was hoping you were coming to the city.”
“Not tonight. I’m exhausted.” Sophie leaned toward Fiona, seeking her mouth, and briefly kissing her. She then headed to the house to say her adieus, and when she appeared at the door again, she had a perplexed look on her face.
“What’s the matter?” Fiona wished to decipher her lover’s look.
“Nothing,” she whispered as she walked to her car. She opened the door, inserted her keys, and lowered the window. “They are cute.”
“Yes, they are,” Fiona’s short reply came out forced. She was still uncomfortable with her mother’s relationship. “Bye, my beautiful girl. See you tomorrow.” She pressed into her mouth, delving and probing intensely, conscious of her mother’s gaze behind her back. Nevertheless, she felt brave and happy at the same time. She was glad she had a girlfriend. Finally, she wasn’t afraid to tell the world. Was she ready to settle down? Was she even the type? One thing was certain, Sophie made her want to scream her happiness to everyone.
Chapter Twenty-One
When Fiona looked at her watch, it was way past eight o’clock. She had made a conscious decision to prolong her stay at her mother’s, so she could search Dr. Kaufman’s office. Was it illegal? Of course, it was illegal. Yet, she felt a newly-found energy invading her body, making her intensely dangerous. She presented her badge to the doorman, making up a story of a security breach she was investigating that required her to inspect Dr. Kaufman’s space.
“I believe he is still in his office. I haven’t seen the doctor leave. His last patient, a woman, left not long ago ...” he mechanically stared at his watch, “probably fifteen minutes ago.”
“Okay, thanks.” Fiona scanned her mind for an excuse to offer the doctor for her unexpected visit. She also wondered what interrogation skills and techniques to apply in extracting the hidden information Dr. Kaufman was protecting. She would search his office some other time. She went down the corridor, knocked at the door, and entered. The room, the antique chairs, the glass table, the walls, and the floor were covered in blood. She checked for a pulse, and there wasn’t a beat indicative of life. The doctor was gone. She glanced at his face closely, and she was shocked by what she saw. She was stunned that she was facing a twenty-year-old case that had been cold as ice and was becoming warm like summer again.
The doctor’s secret, whatever it was, had killed him. And it was obviously perpetrated by the makeup artist who struck twenty years ago—his face was painted like the homeless girl in Central Park. She retrieved her phone from her pocket and made a phone call requesting assistance, then called Sophie’s work phone. It rang four times. God, she thought, my tendency to count the rings is tiresome, and it’s making me anxious. She was transferred to Sophie’s voice mail. She wouldn’t leave a message. She had to find Sophie and the rest of the team. The situation was progressing in leaps and bounds, which no one could contain. She believed that something greater was approaching; that was her intuition. She called the main line of the precinct, demanding to speak to Detective Sophie Andrews or Detective Phil ‘something or other.’ She realized then, she didn’t remember Phil’s last name. They had been properly introduced. How could she be so careless and forget his last name?
“Phil Kaufman? Anyway, both left a while ago.”
She glanced at the doctor’s face again. He had bushy eyebrows and thin lips, characteristics she couldn’t dispute. She realized in that moment that Phil Kaufman was the doctor’s son and the recipient of the first device. She was baffled at how everything came together: a twenty-year-old case with a makeup artist who struck again, the device, Dr. Kaufman and his son, and of course, Dr. Taylor. She left the room. She couldn’t do anything to save him, and she didn’t want to contaminate the scene. She approached the doorman.
“You said the doctor’s last patient left a while ago. What time did she come?”
“I had to take a break, and in those instances, I lock the door. The visitors must use the intercom to get access. Probably, she came during the time I was away from my desk.”
“Can you describe her?”
“In her fifties with short hair. I never saw her before. Probably, she is a new patient. I feel like I’m being accused of something. What’s going on?”
“Dr. Kaufman was murdered,” she stated simply and walked out. She needed fresh air in her lungs to pump life into her body. She heard the sirens echoing in the
open space and forced herself to think.
Chapter Twenty-Two
As soon as her taste buds were sated by her ex-husband’s blood, Andrea set the scene. She was satisfied for now, and his blood was delicious. The sweetness, bitterness, saltiness, and sourness all swirled together in her mouth, like a ballroom dance. She applied the makeup and exited his office, saying a cheerful good night to the doorman. She took a cab back to the office as her personal dealings were completed. The only task that remained was to follow her contact’s instructions. She was a bit afraid to let the beast guide her all the way. How far could it go? Perhaps far enough to close the circle of life? She would eradicate the beast if it was not as strong as it always proclaimed to be.
The lab sat on a square lot, modern and imposing, with no security other than the alarm system. She punched the code and entered as though this building was her real home. She spent more time in the dark of the lab than her own apartment. It had become her safe house after she had spent a whole year in a hospital locked within a single room and contained by four walls. Dr. Taylor released her into society, not because he was compassionate but merely as an experimental subject. She was a successful implementation of his research, and all went well for him until she received the phone call that would amend the outcome of his research. Her contact awakened the beast that had been forgotten, and she became perplexed by how easy it was to raise the entity within. Had the contact funneled the energy that existed within her or was it just some lucky key strokes? Perhaps both? She would have to go through her entire report and her chart to find out. Regardless, she had always carried the beast within her.
She descended to the basement and turned on all the lights. She needed illumination for the task she was about to undertake. She input the code and unlocked the control room, then dropped into the chair before the monitor to write the command. There were no quarrels between herself and the entity; they seemed to be synchronized for the same longing. It was strange that her contact had called her just one day before the anniversary of the Central Park killing, once again unleashing the force. Now, she realized that the date of the phone call was significant and important. Back then, she was simply consumed by the upheaval that her contact had caused. He talked about her son as well and how much he resembled her with his cravings for crime scenes. He told her she had the responsibility of facilitating what was required as a parent, and she complied.
She lowered her gaze to the keyboard, contemplating for only a second, and then, she pushed the keys with anger and determination. Her beast was long since awakened. Her contact had stroked the keys long ago, but who was he? How did he know so much about her, the device, and the funneling of energy? He must be someone close, someone who knew the program. A scientist? Peter, the beast within replied. Of course! Peter knew all about the program, and he had harshly criticized the device when he left. Was it a front? Why was he involved? Why did he want to destroy Dr. Taylor? Was it because of jealousy? Who the fuck cares? the beast screamed. Let’s dance!
She got up and gave the beast what it wanted. She danced all around the room. The beast and she were at peace and happy at last.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A forgotten laptop and Phil’s naïve mannerisms enticed Sophie to follow him to his apartment. He told her that Horton’s program was making some real connections between the victims, and it was imperative to retrieve the laptop. She trusted him implicitly. They had worked together for four years, and it was a good relationship. Now, his actions were thespian-like and calculated; like they were premeditated, not spur-of-the-moment. On the other hand, she didn’t have any evidence to substantiate this theory. His behavior changed dramatically and unexpectedly, and she could not explain it any other way. Suddenly, he placed his hands on the sides of his head as if to contain an impending explosion, then he looked at her with eyes that revealed no emotions. His eyes appeared to have been wiped clean. His empty gaze was telling, but despite her excellent detective skills, she missed all the cryptic messages. Now, she was laying on his bed with her hands duct taped behind her back, her ankles bound together, and her mouth sealed shut with the sticky, gray tape. She was fucked, and her current circumstances were desperate. Phil talked about a sacrifice before he left the room. She looked around in disbelief. Why did Phil want to eliminate her? He was a good cop, had always been a good cop. Nothing made sense, and she was incensed at being fooled by him.
“You never saw me,” he accused her when he entered the room again. “I was always there for you, loving you, adoring you, following you. And then you ignored me; like I was of no importance.”
Sophie’s mind was confused by these utterances. What was he saying? Was he in love with her? She wasn’t into men, and he knew that. She was a lesbian, for God’s sake. She mumbled. Her sounds came out incoherent and unclear. She violently moved on his bed, extending and retracting her legs, pushing in all directions.
“Stop!” he ordered. “The time is fast approaching for the sacrifice.” He sounded joyful as he left the room again. She faced the unknown with a painful loneliness. I’m a fucking detective, for the love of God! she wanted to scream. She had to calm down and think, but the first thing that came to her mind was Fiona and how taken she was by her. She was beautiful, sexy, and sensitive. Sophie was certain that it was more than sex, more than the ephemeral, transparent feelings. What she felt was ... she could not articulate it, even now that she was facing her own demise. She was again denying the theory of love. She was afraid to accept it because she had been destroyed by numerous relationships before where she had let her heart decide. Fiona would break her if she left herself open to receive affection. Did it matter now? Sophie had a very bad feeling that she would not survive the night.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Time was running out, and Fiona was aware of it. She called Sophie’s and Phil’s cell phones many times, although she sensed her attempts were fruitless. Her gut was warning her a catastrophe was fast approaching, like a pebble that was thrown to the center of the earth through a man-made gap. She left the CSI team to evaluate Dr. Kaufman’s office while she waited outside, capitulated, and broke. Her mind was an empty space, or she had emptied it intentionally, afraid to accept the feeling that was ebbing again. She elected inactivity because she didn’t know which direction to take, didn’t know which pathway would lead her to the killer. Then, as if she was being instructed by ancient Gods, a pathway emerged.
“Jen, I need you to find Dr. Taylor’s address. He is the doctor who invented the device, and it’s imperative to reach him now!” she shouted without even greeting her. It was easy enough to use her own smart phone and recall the information, but she was longing for Jennifer’s support. Jen was familiar with her disposition, and when she sensed that Fiona was in distress, she came to her rescue. A bit of guilt touched her soul and threatened to take over for using the oldest trick in her book. Yet, they were friends and that what friends supposed to do, support and rescue.
“Where are you?”
“Seventy-ninth and Fifth, at another crime scene.”
“I’m coming over. I’ll bring the address with me. It seems that the situation is spiraling out of control. What time is it?”
“It’s almost nine.”
“I should be there in no more than twenty minutes.” Fiona ended the connection as she looked helplessly at the old building.
* * *
Jennifer hurtled toward Matthew’s office to help Fiona catch the killer before more people were murdered. She knew deep inside that she would always assist Fiona when she was distressed or in need. With a few key strokes, she obtained Dr. Taylor’s address, the doctor who had invented the device. And it was a good thing Fiona mentioned that bit of information because there were tons of Taylors. As she grabbed a piece of paper to write a quick note to Matthew before departing, her gaze fell on a stack of documents titled “THE DEVICE.” That was Matthew’s document, and Fiona had mentioned the device. Jennifer’s gut feelin
g was telling her everything was related. Could she violate Matthew’s privacy ... his work? It was unthinkable; however, the cop in her was unleashed. Just a quick glance, she promised herself, just to determine if it was all related. Indeed, Dr. Taylor’s name appeared as the inventor. There were also crossed out names ... six crossed out names? Normally, she wouldn’t have paid attention to the list of people, but the red ink made the names pop out. She remembered who they were, and they were all dead. That was Fiona’s case. Her mind was in total disarray, trying to make sense of the document she was holding and the dead victims.
“What are you doing?” Matthew’s voice seemingly came from nowhere. She hadn’t heard the door unlocking.
“You crossed out six names. They were in the FDA’s data. You deleted them, right? When I tried to access the names, they were already gone.” She knew she sounded accusatory. What else could she be? These people were dead, and he was involved in some capacity. “Why?”
“It’s not important. We had to do a few modifications before all the information was recorded officially in the document.”
Jennifer exhaled with relief. He made logical sense. He wasn’t involved ... yet. “Modifications? Wait a minute. These people have died, and someone who is involved with this ... this device ... may be behind it. Did you know?”