by Glenn Porzig
"A cab driver found her. Said it looked like she was just sitting there naked on a park bench… until he got closer," the officer said to Drake.
"I'll have a word with him," Drake walked over to where the obviously distraught cabbie was leaning against his car.
"I'm Detective Drake, they tell me you discovered the body."
"Yeah, that's right. I found her right over there, just like that."
"Would you tell me about it?"
"Sure thing. I was just driving my usual route and I saw this naked chick sittin' on the park bench. I've seen all sorts of stuff, you wouldn't believe half of it. People wandering the early morning streets drunk or high. You never know what they'll do. So I wasn't too surprised to see her naked and just sitting there."
"And then what?"
"Well, I slowed down to get a better look… I noticed she wasn't movin', figured she was just passed out… then I saw the hole in her chest. I'm gonna have to hose out the cab."
"Did you happen to see anyone else around? Anybody walking down the street or driving by?"
"I honestly didn't notice… sorry, once I saw the naked girl, well, that kinda got my undivided attention."
"I understand. If you think of anything, be sure to call me."
Drake walked over to the corpse. He scanned the nearby buildings. No cameras. He'd have officers check nearby businesses to see if any managed to catch someone coming or going, but he wasn't holding his breath.
The dead girl was bound, the ropes tied to keep her in an upright position. She was porcelain white, drained of all of her blood. Her heart was missing. This was linked to the previous murder. He knew it… and in a few hours so would the rest of the city.
***
"Early this morning police were called downtown where another body was discovered. Like the last one, this victim was female, she was found naked and bound. Still no word as to the victim's identity. Police are asking anyone with any information about this crime to call the anonymous tip line."
Caroline turned to face another camera.
"We are hearing that this is being investigated as a homicide, and may in fact be very similar to the murder of Mandy Zimmer. Both of these cases recall the crimes of serial killer Lee Miller who was active in the area one year ago. Miller, however, died in a conflict with police detective Alexander Drake."
She took on an even more serious expression.
"Are we dealing with another serial killer? A copycat? Sometimes, in high profile cases like these that get a lot of publicity, someone unhinged may be inspired to emulate the previous crimes. Either to pick up where the original killer left off, or as a twisted tribute. It's still too early to tell, but rest assured that we here at WYKN will keep you up-to-date with the very latest breaking details of this story."
***
Brandy laughed. She and Jessica were on break, spending what little downtime they had swapping crazy stories about their experiences working the night shift in the hospital. They were alone in the break room and the lack of people bustling around trying to handle more patients at once than the hospital was designed for was a welcome break.
"It sounds like things were even crazier in Chicago!"
"Oh, I assure you they were! I was so glad when I was moved day-side. Needless to say, I wasn't thrilled when the only opening for me here was the overnights," said Jessica.
"But if you weren't on the graveyard shift you wouldn't have met me!"
"True. You have been a good friend. I'm glad we have each other to try to survive the insanity of this place together."
Brandy paused for a moment before saying, "That was your husband that dropped you off tonight?"
"Yeah, that was Chris. I'm sorry I didn't introduce him, I thought you'd already met."
"Nope, haven't had the pleasure. He doesn't normally drop you off, does he?"
"We share a car. I usually take the bus so he can have the car to pick up supplies for the renovations that he's doing on the house. With a second woman being found dead we were both a little worried, so he suggested dropping me off at work tonight."
"Well, he is one fine looking fella, if you don't mind me saying so. Looks like he works out. How can you stand being stuck here instead of being at home in bed with him?"
"I keep asking myself the same thing. It isn't my first choice, I'll tell you that much."
Brandy laughed again.
***
Traffic lights and neon signs reflected in the sheen of water that covered the street from the earlier rain shower. Puddles welled up, they splashed and rippled as cars drove through them. Detective Drake was tired, having worked so hard on the case since early that morning, but if he wanted to talk to the dead girl's peers this was the time and place to do it.
He approached the first girl on the street corner. She was a skinny black girl in a tube top and miniskirt, she looked to be in her late twenties. It was hard to tell in the dim illumination provided by the lone street light.
"I'd like to talk to you about a girl that worked around here…" He flipped open his badge, the gold shield reflecting through the misty night air.
"You a cop? I don't need any trouble, I got enough of that already."
"Believe me, I'm not here to run you in. I just have a few questions."
"You may not run me in, but you sure are running off any of my clientele—flashing your badge around like that!"
"Sorry about that. I'll try to be quick. You may have heard, there was a girl found dead this morning. She had a number of priors, her records indicate she worked these streets. You think maybe you know her? Have you noticed anyone missing tonight?"
The skinny girl hung her head and shook it back and forth in regret.
"Damn. She was a nice girl. I knew her. Not many girls out here you can trust, all of them so strung out for their next fix that they'd cut you to take what you got. But she wasn't like that."
"You have a name for her?"
"Amber, she went by Amber. That's 'cause she was blond. Man, I knew something was wrong when she didn't show up tonight…"
"Were you, um, working here with her last night? Did you see anything out of the ordinary?"
The girl readjusted the strap on the small purse she was wearing across her shoulder and looked around before answering.
"You know these streets ain't exactly safe."
"Anything could help, please."
"Yeah. Yeah, I was working this corner with her last night."
"Did you see her go off with anyone?"
"You do know how this works, right? You get in a car with a John and drive off together."
"I mean, did you see anything unusual? Anyone acting funny?"
"All these dudes be acting funny, they wanna get some, you know? But I did notice something. That last car she got in—it didn't go towards our usual no-tell motel, it turned around and went the other way…"
"And that's unusual? Why?"
"Man, it's too risky to go home with dudes, you never know what you're gonna get. We take 'em to the motel where we can keep an eye on each other."
"So, you think she went home with the man? And you never saw her again after that?"
"Yeah, that's right."
"Did you happen to get a good look at the him?"
"They all lookin' the same to me… I did notice he had a nice car. Silver BMW, not more than a few years old. That was one fine ride."
"That could certainly help. Thank you for your time."
"You just do what you can to find the bastard who did that to her, you hear me?"
"You can count on it."
***
"I don't know what to say," Christopher Clarke was frustrated. It seemed like they'd been at it forever. They had never really argued like this, not even when he lost his job. His wife had always been supportive, but now something had come over her.
"Have you seen our bank account? It's like we're bleeding money…"
"It's expensive to remodel a house. Material cos
ts have been going up, but it'll be well worth it when we flip it."
"I just don't think that you're taking this seriously. I'm gone to work all night, I come home tired, and it doesn't look like you're getting anything done."
"You know this is a big project. These things don't get done over night. I'm just one man—with a whole house to renovate."
"What are you doing all day while I'm gone?"
"I get most of my work done overnight so I don't wake you up with all of the construction noise. But I have to shop for supplies during the day while places are open. I've explained that before," he rested his hands on his legs and let out an exasperated sigh.
"Look, I know it's a long term project, but these night shifts are killing me. And it doesn't look like you're making much progress…" Jessica rubbed at her temple.
"I'm doing what I can."
"I come home tired, you're tired… it seems like we never spend any time together. I feel like you aren't even paying attention to me. It's like you aren't interested in me any more. I just wonder what I've gotten myself into… things have changed so much since we moved here."
"I know you didn't want to move, but we didn't have much choice. We'll make things work… we always do."
"The whole point was to flip the house—but who wants to buy a haunted house? I can't believe they didn't tell us someone died here. Are we going to be stuck with it? I don't want to live here any longer than I have to-I just can't!"
"Jess…"
"You aren't the one who saw the shadow man! I don't care if you believe me or not, I just can't stay here! I won't!"
***
"Can you believe this freezing rain bullshit? I mean, rain or snow, make up your mind!" said former Chief of Police Thomas O'Bannon as he shook the rain from his jacket. He hacked and coughed before he resumed speaking. "Back in my day we had four seasons. These days they seem to fast forward through the good ones. I miss Spring and Fall…"
"If you're tired of the cold, why don't you pack up and move to Florida with all of the other retirees?" asked Drake as he closed the door behind his friend.
"I do sometimes wonder why I lived here in the cold all of my life. Why did I stay here freezing my ass off, shoveling snow?"
"Why did you?"
"This is where I grew up, where I made my career. Besides, can you see me wandering around on the beach wearing flip-flops and carrying a metal detector?"
"That is a funny picture, now that you mention it."
"Okay, laugh it up. You'll be old one day, and the cold will get to you too. It seeps down into your bones. You feel like you'll never get warm again." O'Bannon launched into another coughing fit.
"You should see a doctor about that cough."
"I'll be fine. Just get on with it. What have you found on the case?"
"I'm sure you've heard there's been a second murder. Another blond. This one was a prostitute."
"Yeah, first one was a stripper, right?"
"That's right."
"So, what's the supernatural angle on this, or is there one?"
"I'm not sure yet, but there are just too many similarities to Lee Miller's killing spree last year."
"But you know he's dead…"
"Yeah, I know he's dead."
"Have you checked the grave?"
"Have I… are you serious?"
"Hey, don't rule out anything. Dead men walking. How is that any harder to believe than demons possessing people?"
"Miller had three rounds from my magnum in his chest—and he's been in the ground for a year. Believe me, he's not walking anywhere."
"Maybe he had an accomplice?"
"It's possible. I'm really not sure yet."
"So, you think another member of the cult has picked up where he left off?"
"That's a more likely scenario… we'll see how that plays out. I'll talk to you again soon. In the mean time, be sure to have that cough looked at."
Drake bundled up his coat and went back out into the cold rainy night.
***
Christopher Clarke rolled out of bed. He was sweating, but the old house was chilly. He didn't even remember going to bed. Things had been odd recently. He couldn't put his finger on it. It felt like when you're searching for a word, it's on the tip of your tongue, but you just can't remember it.
He squinted his eyes and rubbed them, his head was throbbing. He needed a drink, some water… anything. He was feeling dehydrated, like he'd been out drinking the night before. Maybe that's why he didn't remember going to bed? He made it to the kitchen. He was only wearing his boxer briefs and the cool air was starting to dry the sweat from his exposed skin. He grabbed a glass and filled it with cold water from the refrigerator's dispenser. It was refreshing.
He looked around at the work that he had started in the kitchen. He really hadn't made much progress. He couldn't remember the last time he'd worked in there. He'd need to make it a priority to get the kitchen back in shape. He was sure that would make Jessica happy with him. He seemed to remember that she hadn't been happy lately.
Now he started to feel a chill, maybe he was sick. Did he have a fever? He'd have to check. That would explain his lack of concentration. But for now he'd grab something to wear out of the laundry room. He made his way there through the empty house. He still wasn't used to being home alone at night while his wife was gone working at the hospital. But it seemed too early for her to be gone.
He poked around in the laundry baskets looking for one of his comfortable shirts to sleep in. He couldn't find what he was looking for. The dryer was empty. Did his wife leave clothes sitting in the washer again? He opened up the washer and sure enough, there were wet clothes sitting in the bottom.
Chris reached his hand down to grab the clothes but recoiled at the touch of them. He reached down again and pulled up the clothes to examine them. They were dripping something, it looked red, was it wine? He dropped them again and looked at his hand, the fingers dripping what looked like blood. What was going on here? Was that really blood? Had he hurt himself? Those were his clothes, but he didn't feel anything wrong, didn't see any wounds.
There had to be some explanation. Maybe he had made a mess preparing dinner? He couldn't remember. It was frustrating. Maybe he should ask his wife when she got home. Then again, maybe he shouldn't. He poured detergent into the washer and started it up.
He made his way back into the kitchen to wash the red substance off his hands, that's when he noticed the note from his wife. She had gone into work early. That explained why she wasn't home. He decided a shower would help clear his head. The washing machine should be full now, there would be enough hot water left to rinse off if he kept it quick.
The warm water felt good as it rolled down his back. A nice hot shower was just what he needed. Chris was lost in the moment, but his relaxation was cut short by a pounding on the door. He turned off the water and listened, the pounding repeated. Stepping out of the bathtub he grabbed his towel and wrapped it around his waist.
Brandy was about to pound on the door again when it finally swung open. She was expecting to see Jessica, not her friend's hunky husband wearing nothing but a towel. She blushed and stammered. "Uh, hi! Sorry to bother you… I'm Brandy, is, uh… Jessica in? I was supposed to meet her."
Chris stood up a little straighter, the cold wind sending a chill across his wet skin. "She had to go in early, something about a coworker with a sick kid?"
"Oh, I was running so late, I didn't get to check my messages…" she looked him up and down. "You must be a little cold, I'm sorry."
"Oh, yeah… come on in," Chris stepped aside and let Brandy in, then closed the door behind her. "Just wait right here and I'll go throw something on."
Brandy watched as he walked away. His bare muscles rippling, still wet with a sheen of moisture from the shower. She couldn't help but be a little envious of her friend's love life. Things hadn't been going well for her since her last boyfriend left. Work was so crazy, there was no time to meet a
nyone. She'd already been warned not to get involved with any of the doctors at work.
It had been so easy back when she was in school. There were guys everywhere in her classes and at sporting events. And there was the partying and the nightlife. But now, out of school, working weekends and overnights… it was like she'd dropped off the face of the earth. Work was her life now—and that wasn't very much fun.
She was still standing in the same spot, lost in thought when Chris returned. He'd put on a pair of black sweatpants and was now using the towel to dry his hair. He still wasn't wearing a shirt. Seeing his abs glistening, she couldn't help but think about the covers of the trashy romance novels that she had read in her youth. She knew it was wrong, but the thought of the forbidden spurred her on. She pictured him as the strong Alpha that would take her.
"I was going to catch a ride with Jessica…" she murmured.
He looked at the beautiful young girl in front of him and something came over him. He wasn't himself. It felt like he was in a dream. Like the words were coming from someone else. "I'll give you a ride…" He dropped the towel and took her roughly by the arms, pulled her close and kissed her.
***
The eggs were already getting cold, but Drake wasn't too fussy. He'd eaten worse. A lot worse. He took his plain toast and used it to soak up some of the egg yolk. A quick bite of bacon was followed rapidly by a mouthful of the dripping toast. He was about to take a sip of his coffee when he saw an unfamiliar figure walk in the diner. The man was looking right at him. It was way too early to be dealing with any trouble. He sat the cup down without taking a drink.
The man was walking straight for Drake's table. He looked to be around sixty years old, with medium length hair streaked with gray. He was holding a clipboard and an expanding file folder that was overstuffed with papers. He seemed to falter and hesitate as he approached the detective.
"Are you Detective Drake? The one investigating the murders?"
Drake shoveled another bite in his mouth without taking his eyes off the man.
"You are, aren't you?"
"I'm Drake. What can I do for you?"