Dark Pursuit

by Collins, Brandilyn

  Only then did the realization hit me. It wasn’t the mom I identified with.

  By the time I left the party—early—I wanted to kill that new mother. Wanted to feel my hands around her throat. Watch the life choke out of her. Wanted to see in her eyes the regret, the guilt over her supreme selfishness.

  I drove the streets randomly, chaotically, not wanting to go home. Knowing I would only claw the walls if I did. But I didn’t understand what was happening inside me. As if the cloth thing a week ago hadn’t been enough. Now a ball burned in my stomach, churning, churning. Felt like the Hyde coming out of Jekyll. Memories of childhood and my mother flashed in my head. Memories of Dad. I didn’t know why, didn’t understand how they were connected.

  It was barely ten o’clock.

  I drove along the south end of town. Saw a woman coming out of a bar. Alone. No one else was in the parking lot. She vaguely resembled my friend’s wife. Medium-length brown hair. About the same build, same height. A small purse slung on her shoulder. She had a haughty walk, as if saying to the world, “I’ll do as I please, just see if you can stop me.”

  Everything in my being fastened on that woman. My hands gripped the steering wheel, my eyes glued to her. I watched her cross toward a car and get in. Throw her purse on the passenger seat.

  And then I knew what I would do.

  My body relaxed. I fell into a state of heightened numbness, if that makes any sense. Very aware but emotions turned off. Except for a vague anticipation in carrying out justice.

  How I would go about my business I didn’t know. Somehow. That night. Before the woman got home.

  I would follow her.

  Sometimes the world turns on its axis right. Sometimes it gives up the deserving.

  The woman’s car wouldn’t start.

  I drove up beside her and offered help. Told her who I was. Who wouldn’t trust me?

  “I have Triple A,” she said. “I’ll call for a tow truck.”

  “Let me take you home. You don’t want to be waiting out here in the dark. Tomorrow’s Sunday anyway. It’s safer to take care of this in the daylight.”

  “Okay.”

  Just like that—“Okay.”

  She picked up her purse, locked her car doors, and slid into my passenger seat. Told me where she lived.

  We talked as I drove. I asked if she had children. A young daughter, she told me.

  “Oh. Who’s watching her now?”

  “Her grandmother.”

  Her grandmother. While Mom went out to bars.

  The ball in my stomach flamed.

  “You lived here long?” I asked.

  “No.”

  How had I known that? Instinct. Bubbling up from deep inside me.

  “I know a quicker back way to your house.”

  I turned on a road headed west, toward the hills. Past some houses and into a rural area framed by woods.

  “You sure you know where you’re going?” She didn’t even have the sense to be scared.

  “Don’t you think I would know this town?”

  There’s an old dirt road in that area. Teenagers used to park there until too many of them were caught on a slew of drug raids. After that word got around to avoid the place. Now on a Saturday night it was pitch dark and empty.

  I turned into it, shoved my car in park, and lunged for her throat.

  They say pit bulls don’t let go once they bite. My fingers were like that. No matter what she did to me, they weren’t about to let loose.

  She fought. I rammed my head down against her chest, shielding my face from her nails. With long sleeves on, I wasn’t worried about my arms.

  The silence surprised me. I expected gurgles, choking. But those require air, and I gave her none. She thrashed in her seat like a mute, her only sound the rustle of her clothes.

  Without warning she fell slack.

  “Playing dead,” a voice told me.

  I squeezed even tighter. My fingers hung on until they cramped. Even then I wouldn’t let go. Another thirty seconds, another minute …

  When I pulled away she slumped over like a puppet with its strings cut.

  I gazed at her for a very long time. I hated what I saw.

  She looked much uglier than she had in life. Worthless. I wanted her dirty body out of my car. And yet … something. Something wasn’t right.

  The fabric.

  That thought screamed at me, froze my limbs. My mouth unhinged. I stared at the sack of flesh, that bent neck—and I understood.

  My life opened up before me.

  I reached for the glove compartment and reverently removed the black silk cloth. Suddenly it was no longer a mystical unknown. It had become my purpose.

  I ran it through my hands. Closed my eyes and smelled it.

  Yes. Yes.

  I pushed the woman’s body up straight. Wound the cloth tight around her neck and tied a knot.

  Sitting back, I surveyed my work.

  No. Still not right.

  My fingers found the fabric again. Over the knot I formed an awkward bow.

  Again I pulled away and gazed, like an art critic before a painting.

  Yes. This was it. Perfection. I felt it in my gut. She looked like a wrapped present. A gift. To me.

  I smiled.

  For a moment I leaned back in my seat and simply breathed.

  Logistical details began to surface in my head. I forced the body down over the console, where it couldn’t be seen by anyone else. Just in case. I drove farther into the woods. Dragged her out of the car and into the trees about a hundred feet from the dirt road.

  I laid her on her back, chin tilted up. My last lingering look focused on the cloth. Even though I had more, much more, I felt sorry leaving it behind.

  Under the sliver moon, I made my way back to the car and drove off.

  My heart floated. Relief and joy wrapped around me like an oven-warmed blanket.

  On the way home I threw the woman’s purse in a dumpster behind a closed grocery store.

  By the time I reached my place, I was exhausted. That night I enjoyed the best sleep I’d had in the past week. Before going to bed I felt compelled to cut another strip of the black silk.

  The next day I awoke wondering if it was all a dream.

  Reality hit. I had killed.

  Why would I do that?

  The fabric. It was the fabric.

  On a gut level I knew this. Yet still that cloth sang to me. I couldn’t imagine getting rid of it.

  By noon I would talk myself out of the silly notion that it was to blame.

  In my car I found a couple brown hairs. Dirt on the floor. I’d just washed and vacuumed the car the day before. I washed and vacuumed it again. Removed the vacuum bag, took it across town and threw it in a dumpster.

  I worried about the parking lot. Had anyone seen me pick up the woman? But I knew it had been empty.

  Leaving her car there was good. Very good. That would throw detectives off the trail. They’d think she left with someone in the bar. They’d question everyone there that night. If I were investigating, that’s the first thing I’d do.

  Why did I kill her?

  Too much to drink at the party maybe.

  No matter, it wouldn’t happen again. I’d been driven beyond myself, the victim of some sinister compulsion. But no more. Now I was in charge of my own life.

  The next day I went back to work feeling normal.

  On the news that night I heard the story. A couple of hikers headed up into the hills saw a flash of color some distance off the dirt road. Something made them check it out.

  No report of the most crucial detail. A bow of black silk cloth with green stripes tied around the victim’s neck.

  Of course I understood why.

  twenty-six

  As Kaitlan walked away from Chief Barlow, Craig lasered her with his eyes. Hand at her back, he steered her toward Hallie.

  “Kaitlaaaan!” Hallie sang the name in that lilt of hers, flinging an arm a
round Kaitlan’s neck. “Thanks for coming to my party!”

  Hallie was tanned and athletic, with large brown eyes. Coarsely textured and straight, her hair was highlighted in varying shades of honey blonde. She’d starting coming to Kaitlan for styling two months ago. Good thing. Her cut had been all wrong for the shape of her face.

  Hallie, if you knew the trouble I was in, would you help me?

  “Wouldn’t miss it.” Kaitlan managed a smile.

  Craig kissed Hallie’s cheek. “Happy birthday, Sis.”

  Kaitlan shuddered at the thought of those lips on her own skin.

  “Thanks.” Hallie rolled her hand in the air. “Everybodyyyy! Does everyone know Kaitlan, the very best hairstylist in the world? I should know because she made me look terrific.” She pushed up one side of her hair in an animated primp.

  Kaitlan heard laughs and a chorus of “Hi, Kaitlans.” She tried to nod to each person.

  Hallie bounced her hand from one friend to the next, introducing each one. Patty from work and her husband, Mike. Sheila and Leslie, also from the counseling service. And their dates, somebody and somebody. Then seven or eight more people. Kaitlan tried to focus, but the faces and names started to run together.

  “And of course my wonderful dad, who’s paying for this night on the town!” Hallie picked up a glass from a nearby table and raised it high in the air.

  “Hear, hear!” The others joined in her toast.

  “Thank you,” Chief Barlow boomed. “It’s costing me a fortune, but hey. Anything for family.”

  He slid a look at Kaitlan.

  “So go ahead, Hallie.” Patty waved her fingers in the air. “You were telling us about the crazy guy at work.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Hallie looked to Kaitlan. “This was a few years ago, and the people are long gone, so I can tell the story.”

  Sheila shook her head. “We counsel some of the nuttiest people.”

  Hallie guzzled a quick drink. “So like I was saying this woman and her husband come in, say they can’t pay the bills, are always fighting about money, blah, blah. The husband says the wife’s spending too much, and the wife says well maybe if he’d get a job …”

  Her audience laughed.

  “So I say to him, ‘You’re not working?’ ‘No,’ he says, ‘I don’t see the need.’ ” Hallie rolled her eyes. “Right. ‘I don’t see the need.’ Then I turn to the wife. ‘You working?’ ‘Yes, two jobs.’ ‘Two jobs?’ I point to the husband. ‘And he’s not doing anything?’ Hubby speaks up. ‘I’m doing something. I’m cutting out coupons.’ ”

  “Oh, good grief.” Eddie shook his head.

  “See what I mean?” Sheila’s eyebrows raised.

  Hallie pushed hair off her forehead. “ ‘Coupons,’ I say. ‘You mean like for the grocery store?’ ‘Yeah.’ He looks proud. ‘I save us a good twenty dollars a week.’ ”

  She cocked her head with an “I can’t believe this” expression. “ ‘Twenty whole dollars.’ I drag out the words, like—wow, you know. ‘Wonder how much you’d make if you worked all week.’ He looks at me like I’m crazy. ‘But then I couldn’t clip coupons.’ ” Hallie gurgled a laugh. “ ‘Try clippin’ ‘em at night,’ I tell him. ‘Working moms do that all the time.’ ‘Oh,’ he says, ‘but I read too slow.’ ”

  “Read too slow!” Steve guffawed.

  Hallie giggled. “No, no, wait, doesn’t stop there. He says, ‘And my fingers are stiff, so I cut slow too.’ ”

  Everyone howled.

  “Oh, get outta here,” Joe said. “I don’t believe this.”

  “I’m telling you, it’s true!” Hallie pushed his shoulder. “This is the kind of idiots we have to deal with.”

  “Yeah, well, try working on the police force,” Chief Barlow said. “You see a few nuts there too.”

  Not to mention a murderer …

  A few latecomers arrived, interrupting the conversation. People broke into smaller groups. Kaitlan didn’t know where to go. She didn’t want to stay near Craig, and Hallie was in too much of a party mood.

  Craig gestured toward the open bar. “I’ll get us some wine.”

  “No. Thanks, but … I’ll take some 7UP.”

  He gave her a long look. “You never drink 7UP.”

  “My stomach’s kind of queasy. Maybe that’ll settle it.”

  Oh, no, why’ d you say that?

  Craig scratched his jaw, eyes still on her. Like he was looking right into her soul. “I’ve never known you to have stomach trouble before.”

  Surely he couldn’t know she was pregnant. Could he?

  Kaitlan went hot. The pregnancy test kit. He’d been in her apartment…

  No, no wait. She’d taken the garbage out this morning.

  Kaitlan suppressed a shudder. “I haven’t exactly had the easiest day.”

  No response.

  Craig moved away to get their drinks. She watched him approach the bar, trying to hear what he ordered. What if he didn’t come back with 7UP? She wasn’t about to drink alcohol, not now.

  Joe appeared at her side, navy blue T-shirt showing off the biceps he spent every day in the gym maintaining. His block-shaped face and one-inch flat top added to the don’t-mess-with-me look, but Kaitlan saw concern in his brown eyes. “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah, sure. Why?”

  “You seem a little tense.”

  Was she that obvious? Kaitlan glanced across the room at Chief Barlow—and their eyes met. She looked away.

  “I’m fine.” And she smiled. Widely.

  Craig returned and handed her a glass. “7UP.” He shook his head at Joe. “Girl’s gone nonalcoholic on me.”

  Joe shrugged. “Happens to the best of us.”

  Was it just Kaitlan’s imagination, or did she sense underlying meaning in their casual comments?

  Craig—she’s acting different. Should I be worried?

  Joe—It’s nothing, relax.

  Did Joe know about Craig too?

  Would he do that—protect Craig? Would Steve and Eddie?

  Cops were so tight. Day in, day out, they protected each other, laid their lives on the line for each other. Hard to turn that around when one of their own became the criminal.

  Waiters entered bearing platters of food. Garlic bread, pasta, chicken wings, pizza. Their smells filled the room. Kaitlan buried her nose in the glass of 7UP. As everyone else loaded their plates, she took a little salad and managed a few bites.

  Conversation swirled around her—stories from the Gayner police force, Ed showing pictures of his oldest son playing soccer, Patty shaking her head over some family she’d counseled that day. Kaitlan tried to laugh in all the right places and add a comment when she could. Joe’s words echoed in her head. She didn’t want anyone else asking if she was okay because she just might lose it, just might not be able to play the part another minute.

  She longed to go home, but the thought scared her to death. She’d be going with Craig. Alone.

  If only Joe could take her.

  That is, if Joe was really her friend.

  Hallie announced she couldn’t wait any longer to open her presents and dug in, oohing and aahing over each one. One thing about Hallie—she knew how to make a person feel special. “Oh, I love this bracelet!” she trilled upon opening Kaitlan’s gift. Hallie stopped to put it on and held it up to sparkle blue in the light. “Thank you, girl!”

  Kaitlan smiled. “You’re welcome.”

  By nine-thirty she was exhausted from stumbling over lines, an actress on the wrong stage. Her thoughts kept returning to her grandfather. Were he and Margaret sitting by the phone, waiting for her call? Had he figured out what to do?

  “Yo!” Steve whooped to Chief Barlow. “You hear what happened when Big Daddy here”—he jabbed a thumb at Ed—“took his kids camping last weekend?”

  What if she couldn’t call for hours? What if Craig wanted to stay at her apartment?

  Chief Barlow shoved a final bit of birthday cake into his mouth, crumbs sticki
ng to his lips. “No, but I bet I’m about to.”

  Kaitlan’s heart tumbled. She couldn’t be close to Craig, couldn’t kiss him, surely couldn’t sleep with him. The thought of even lying with him on her bed made her shudder. The bed, where he’d killed.