by Glenn Porzig
"So, we're going to visit the family of the first victim?"
"That's right. The Dixons. Their daughter Beth just died, so I want you to treat them with respect, in fact—just let me do all the talking."
"You act like you think I'm insensitive. It's quite the opposite actually; I spend most of my time with families grieving for lost loved ones."
"...and bilking them out of their inheritance..." Drake said under his breath.
"Have I slighted you in some way, Detective?"
"No, not me personally."
"Your superior had suggested that you would be open to believing in spiritual matters."
"The chief was right, I do believe in the supernatural. I just don't appreciate frauds taking advantage of people's beliefs when they're at their most vulnerable."
Price nervously twisted his golden ring.
"Keep an open mind, Detective. I think you'll be surprised when you see me in action."
"I don't like surprises."
***
"Thanks for allowing us into your home. I'm Detective Drake and as I explained on the phone earlier, this is Solomon Price."
The Dixons were sitting on their couch. Beth's father stood and shook Drake's hand.
"Good to see you again, Detective. Do you have any new information for us?" asked Natalie.
Before Drake could answer, Beth's mother leaned forward toward Price.
"Have you spoken with my daughter?"
Her husband pulled her back onto the couch.
"Please, let the detective talk."
Price sat across from them, Drake remained standing.
"Thank you," Drake braced himself for the uncomfortable topic he was about to bring up. He hated this part. He'd rather deal with a bloody crime scene than the grieving family of the victim.
"Earlier I spoke with Natalie and she mentioned that Beth didn't date much," Drake cleared his throat. "When Jill Tate was found dead we did everything we could to try and find any sort of link between her and your daughter. We couldn't find any. They didn't have classes together, weren't involved in any of the same clubs, they didn't attend the same church."
Drake glanced down at his feet. "I'm exploring the possibility that both of the girls may have been virgins."
A silence hung in the room.
"Beth was in that group, remember honey?" said Mrs. Dixon to her husband.
"That's right."
"What group was that? I thought you provided a list of all of her activities." Drake perked up with anticipation. Was he right? Could this be the break he needed to start making some real progress on this case?
"It just totally slipped my mind. You wait right here and I'll see if I can find it..." said Mrs. Dixon as she got up from the couch.
"Find what?" asked Drake.
"She was in an article a few months back. About a girl's club for virgins," stated her father.
***
Jackson Baron sat in the WYKN studio. It seemed smaller in person than on TV. The lights were bright and bothered his eyes. He was starting to feel a slight line of perspiration bead up at his hairline from the heat of the large lights. His wheelchair had been rolled up onto the Sunday morning talk show set, it wouldn't fit on the news set. He was tired of waiting. But his wait would be over soon.
"Thanks for having me on Caroline," Baron said to the cute brunette reporter sitting across from him.
"It's a pleasure, Councilman."
The floor director, came up to them. "Sorry to interrupt. We're just under two minutes from going live."
Caroline nodded at the man and then smiled at the Councilman. She looked down at her notes.
The next two minutes passed in silence and then a red light flickered to life atop one of the studio cameras, the floor director waving his hand toward the live camera. The reporter gave her automatic smile and began to speak.
"I'm Caroline Phipps and joining me in the studio today is former Councilman Jackson Baron. He has been recently appointed to the mayor's committee on juvenile crime and has graciously agreed to join us here today."
"It's a pleasure to be here Caroline, I'm always glad to share the inner working of politics with the people. I think transparency is important to promote public trust."
"I understand that this committee was newly formed, but have you had a chance to meet and make any headway?"
"We have been able to meet once so far, but it was more of an exploratory meeting. One of many that will surely be in the coming months."
"Have you been able to get a feel yet for which way the committee will be leaning?"
"Oh, it's much too early for that."
"Some people have spoken out to say that maybe it's ill advised to be focusing on youth violence while the city is in the grip of a serial killer."
"The so called 'Heartbreaker'? He's just a blip. An anomaly. What we are focusing on is the big picture and the long term safety of our citizens."
"I understand that you have something to share with us, an announcement of some sort?"
"That's right, Caroline. I'd like to take this opportunity to officially announce that I'm running for the office of Governor of this great state."
"That is a big announcement! I imagine this must really be important to you, seeing that you had to drop out of consideration for the office of lieutenant governor due to the crash that took your wife and the use of your legs."
A pained look crossed Baron's face, followed by grim resolve.
"I feel that if anything that event has given me more focus, and strength to carry on. I want to do what I can for the city that I love and I just hope that the citizens give me the opportunity to serve them."
"We all thank you for your service and dedication. I'd love to have you on again soon to discuss your platform."
"Certainly."
***
"Chief, I might have a way to narrow down our pool of potential victims."
Drake laid the newsletter on his commanding officer's desk. In the middle of the article was a black and white picture of around two dozen girls. They were all in their teens and early twenties and dressed modestly. He pointed at a girl in the front row.
"This is Jill Tate," his finger dragged across the picture to a girl in another row, "and this is Beth Dixon. They were both members of 'The Daughters of Purity', a young women's chastity organization."
"Daughters of Purity? I haven't heard of it."
"Basically, the girls all made a pledge to remain virgins until they're married."
"And why wasn't this found before?" asked Underwood.
"We cross referenced all of their known school, church, and extracurricular activities, but this is an independent organization. They aren't affiliated with any church or school, they're a nationwide movement."
"This is assuming your hunch about the victims being virgins has any merit to it, and that's a big assumption at this point."
"Sir, this is the first link we've found between the two girls—I feel confident that the killer is targeting virgins and this is where he finds them," Drake said tapping his fingers down hard on top of the newsletter.
"We just got a call of a girl not showing up for classes. The thing is we've been getting a lot of these calls… worried parents and siblings, usually it ends up they slept over at some guy's house. I'll make sure to get her name and photo sent over to you to check against this list."
Drake nodded grimly, worried that it would be the girl he had seen at the party.
"If you're right about this, you've just seriously narrowed the list of potential victims, and greatly increased the odds of finding this killer. I want you to track down the rest of these girls and do what you can to protect them."
"Obviously protecting the girls is my first priority, but I'd like to do it quietly. If there's a way I can safeguard the girls without tipping off the killer..."
"You're right. I'll make sure to only send out plain clothes officers to make contact, and I'll instruct them to request the gi
rls continue on with their routines as if nothing was going on."
"Thank you, sir. I'll try to reach out to some of the girls and see if any of them have been approached by a young man fitting the description that Jill's roommate was able to provide."
***
Detective Drake sat down in his usual seat at his usual diner. Gypsy's was a 24 hour greasy spoon. He came here when he couldn't sleep. He came here when he didn't want to be alone. He came here often. He found the familiarity comforting.
"Bring me a coffee," he said absentmindedly.
"Will you be needing to see a menu?" the waitress asked.
"Uh, excuse me?" Drake looked up to see the source of the unfamiliar voice.
"I asked if you needed to look at the menu," she replied.
"Where's Connie?" he asked.
"The girl that usually works this shift? I think they said she ran off to Vegas to get hitched or something like that."
Drake sat staring at the new waitress.
"So, do you want to see the menu, or not?"
"No—no thanks, I'm a regular. I know what I want."
"Okay then, spit it out."
She was young, early twenties, probably working her way through college. Pale. Red hair, green eyes, just a hint of freckles across the bridge of her nose.
"Are you Irish?"
"No, Scottish... and I'm not on the menu," she winked at him.
"Oh, um... that's not, I mean..."
"What'll you have?"
Drake stared at her chest, looking for a name tag, then caught himself. She was staring back at him, a smirk on her lips and one eyebrow raised.
"Uh, your name?"
"Bryce."
"Bryce, I'm Alex. Alex Drake—I'll have two eggs over easy with bacon and dry toast—and I'm still waiting on that coffee..."
"Coming right up... Officer," she said as she turned and walked away.
"Wait a minute, how'd you know I was a cop?"
"Oh, the cook told me all about you when you came in. I was just messing with you."
***
"Thanks for having me back," said Solomon Price.
"I'm not comfortable with this, but my wife wouldn't let me hear the end of it..." Mister Dixon shifted uncomfortably and finally offered his hand to Price.
"I understand. I'm sorry I had to rush out of here last time, the detective was in a bit of a hurry. I really felt like I needed to reach out to you and try to help you through this."
"Natalie would have liked to be here, but she had a prior engagement. Can I get you anything, Mister Price?" asked Mrs. Dixon.
"No, I'm fine. I appreciate your hospitality. I know that losing someone suddenly is a trying time for any family, but to have lost your youngest daughter in such a manner must be almost too much to bear."
"Beth meant so much to both me and my husband. And now we worry about Natalie, with that killer still on the loose."
"Natalie seems to be holding up well, with the loss of her sister. I can understand your concern for her wellbeing, but I"m sure that Detective Drake and the police department will do their best to keep her safe."
"Mister Price, my wife assures me that you can tell us about our daughter, Beth..."
"Thats right. I have a link to the Spirit World. I came here to set your minds at ease. Your daughter Beth is no longer here with us physically, but her spirit is still here to grace us with her knowledge. She can help us, and we can help her."
"Did she… did she suffer?" asked Beth's mother, suddenly overcome by emotion.
"Beth is beyond suffering now. The pain and suffering of this world is only a distant memory, just a blip compared to her eternal afterlife."
"You say that you can help us find the man that killed my little girl?" asked her father.
"That is why I'm working with the detective. We will explore every avenue available to us, both physical and metaphysical. Your daughter will help us track down her killer, and he will be brought to justice."
Beth's parents looked at each other and each gave a wan smile, even as their eyes welled up with tears. They wanted to believe this man that claimed to be in touch with the beyond, even if it was only to take some solace in his comforting words. Any chance that their daughter was at peace and that her killer would be punished was worth grasping at.
***
Detective Drake arrived at the convent. He needed reassurance, the kind that could only come from someone with a similar experience. He made his way to the door and knocked vigorously. Eventually the door swung open and a nun answered.
"May I help you? Oh, Alex, isn't it? I almost didn't recognize you. Decide it was time to stop dying your hair?" The nun gave an innocent smile. She was short, and nearly seventy. Her cheerful demeanor was a refreshing change of pace from dealing with the families of the murder victims.
"Something like that. Sister Mary Francis, I'm glad to see you're well. I came to inquire about Marian—have you seen her?" asked Drake.
"Oh, goodness. No, I've not seen her since she left for the Vatican... oh, about six months back, I guess it was."
"Do you know if she's okay? Have you heard from her at all?"
The diminutive nun clasped her hands together and fidgeted before speaking.
"Yes, when she first arrived in Rome she called me, told me she had a safe trip, and how beautiful it was there. She told me she didn't know how long she would be, and that I wouldn't be hearing from her, but that I shouldn't worry about her."
Sister Mary Francis looked him straight in the eyes.
"This is about those poor dead girls, isn't it?"
"I really need to speak with her, if you have any way to contact her—a number—e-mail—anything."
"I'm sorry dear, she's not allowed any contact with the outside world. I have no idea what she's doing there, or when she'll be back. I have no way to reach her. I still pray for the poor girl every night. The things she's seen..."
"I know you've had your share of troubles as well..."
"Oh, is it that again? You don't have to sugar coat it for me, Detective. I believe in the Bible—I know demons are real..."
Drake saw her quiver, an involuntary shudder from remembering her own struggle with darkness.
"I know you had an encounter with the demon that possessed Marian. He's been cast out—back to Hell—I don't think that's what we're dealing with this time."
"I'm sorry that I can't reach Sister Marian—but if there's any help these old bones can offer please don't hesitate to ask."
"Thank you Sister, I'm sorry to have troubled you. Please let me know if you hear anything from Marian."
Drake handed her his card, smiled and turned to leave.
"God speed, Detective. Remember to keep your faith."
***
"Please, lower the lights."
Solomon Price was finishing lighting the last of the four white candles spread out evenly around the table, one between each person.
Mrs. Dixon brought down the lights and hurried back to her seat. To the left of her sat her husband. Across from her was her only living daughter. To her right sat the famous spiritualist. Her husband spoke up.
"I'm a Christian man, and I'm not comfortable with holding a séance in my house."
"You hush up. It's not like he's using a Ouija board, or anything like that. We've spoken about this, and I won't have you be so rude to Mr. Price. He's a guest in our house, and he's been so nice to offer up his time to be able to speak to Beth again."
"I'm sorry. You're right. Go ahead Mr. Price."
"Please, call me Solomon. It's natural to fear the unknown, but there's no need to feel ashamed, just remember that even Abraham Lincoln and his wife entertained spiritualists and held séances. I actually prefer to refer to it as 'receiving messages', the term séance has taken on such negative connotations over the years."
Price carefully reached across to the center of the table and placed a black candle there. It was thicker and taller than the rest and he secured
it in the center of an ornate silver candelabra.
"We are about to begin."
Price looked around the table theatrically. His voice took on a steady cadence. It was relaxing. Almost hypnotic.
"Would each of you—reach out—and pick up—the candle to your right?" He waited a moment until everyone had their candle. "Now, starting to my right—would each of you, in turn, carefully place your candle in the candelabra?" He gently nodded at Natalie.
She hesitantly reached out with her candle in hand towards the candelabra in the center of the table. It had four ornate arms radiating out from the central pillar, each topped with a candle holder that resembled a grasping hand. The arms curved out from the base and twisted around as they rose up, unlike any she had seen before. She slid the candle firmly into place, small bits of white wax flecking off onto the shiny surface of the table.
Price nodded at Mr. Dixon who also placed his candle, though not as reverently as his daughter had. Next Mrs. Dixon took her candle, hand trembling, and placed it in the alloted spot. Now it was Price's turn. He held the candle in front of his face, the flicker illuminating his eyes as he looked up at the ceiling before muttering something to himself and then using his candle to light the black candle in the center. He then put the final candle in place to complete the ritual.
"Please, join hands."
Everyone reached out and took the hand of the person on either side of them. The anticipation was palpable.
"Keep your eyes on the flame—concentrate only on my voice."
Everyone stared at the flickering flames as they wavered with each word that Price uttered.
"We are gathered here to reach out and communicate with Beth, who has recently departed this earthly realm. Beth Dixon, if you can hear me please give us a sign."
The circle waited breathlessly for any sign that she was among them. There was nothing more than the creak of wooden chairs as they shifted in their seats.
"I call forth my spirit guide, Abigail, to assist me this evening. Abigail, do you see Beth? Is she near?"
The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Mrs. Dixon and Natalie both grasped the hands of the people on either side of them even tighter.