See No Evil

by Kendra Mei Chailyn

  What he said didn't sink in because she was busy trying to figure out why she was shackled and where she was. “Where am I?”

  “That's for me to know and you to find out. And don't worry. I turned off your stove for you.”

  “How considerate.”

  “Your sarcasm doesn't escape me, Miss Roshan, but I'm going to let that go.”

  Tugging again she groaned.

  “You'll only cut yourself open doing that, Miss Roshan, so don't bother.”

  “You won't get away with this.”

  “And in fear of sounding like every television bad guy out there, who's going to stop me?”

  The man stepped out of the darkness and faced her. She gasped. “You! It was you all along? Luke is going to get you for this!”

  Fear was replaced by anger inside of Priety and she wanted to rip his eyes out. She wanted to do to him the same thing he did to all those other women and was about to do to her.

  “The man can't even catch a cold! I mean, I am right under his nose and he couldn't catch me. What makes you think he's going to be able to now? Well, my dear, the game has just gotten interesting.”

  Priety tugged again but this time warm liquid began dripping down her arm and she looked up. She was bleeding, just like he warned earlier but she couldn't let that affect her. It dawned on her that if she bled too much she would pass out or die but she would have to take those chances.

  * * * *

  Luke entered the house and locked the door behind him then turned around with his arms opened. When Priety didn't come bolting at him or appear at all he arched a worried brow. “Priety?” he called and dashed up the stairs. “Priety!”

  Shoving open each door his apprehension turned into stress, anger even longing as each room bore no sign of Priety. He returned down the stairs and into the kitchen. There on the table the note stared back at him like a kick in the groin.

  Detective,

  You should know better. Locked doors and windows do not a prison make.

  “Oh God...” Luke felt the strength to hold his body up leave as he slumped to his knees. He crushed the letter into a tight fist and growled as he hurled it across the room. Grabbing a nearby chair he gritted his teeth and shoved, sending it across the room into the wall. How could he have been so stupid? Grabbing a hold of piece of furniture, he managed to push himself to his feet.

  Swiping his hand across the large desk sent everything on it across the room. He looked around the room helplessly. Luke told Priety he felt like giving up but how could he give up now? He could have spent the rest of his life protecting Priety from the psychopath , Ojo Killer, but now the killer had Priety; what was he to do?

  Luke knew if anything happened to her he would never be able to forgive himself. Every time he thought of Priety being harmed or killed, his heart beat erratically.

  Maybe his heart was trying to tell him he could not live without this Indian woman who stormed into his life and brought with her innocence, second chances, mind blowing passion and a deranged serial killer. Priety was the woman who cured Luke of his fear to be intimate with another woman and that meant more to him than he realized.

  Luke stumbled from the kitchen, bracing himself against the wall and any piece of furniture he could into the living room. He was reaching for the phone when it rang. Diving over the coffee table, he chucked the phone off the hook, “Listen to me you sick son of a bitch...”

  “Whoa!” Keegan's voice was confused. “What did I do to deserve such a sexy greeting?”

  “Sorry, Bro, but he's got her,” Luke spoke through gritted teeth.

  “Say what now?”

  “The killer has Priety! Damn, I shouldn't have left her but I couldn't bring her along with me down to the house for my meeting...”

  “All right, sit tight, I'm gonna gather the boys and get over there.”

  “You can't ask me to just sit here...”

  “I know you want to go out and beat the crap out of something or someone. But we have to do this right or this jack-off could walk on a technicality. You got that?”

  Luke nodded. “Got it. But I can't just sit here while she's out there somewhere...”

  “Damn it, Luke!”

  “I got it!”

  “Good.”

  The phone went dead in his hands and he yanked it from the wall and let it join the killer's letter, the contents from the desk and the broken chair across the room. There was a sharp ringing noise as the phone slammed into the wall and landed on the ground in pieces.

  “Damn it!” For the first time in his life, Luke felt utterly and completely helpless. He felt almost handicapped and he didn't like that feeling one bit. When Jason had fallen through the ice, Luke had known what to do. On every one of his busts, car chases, traffic stops... he had known what to do. When the woman he loved was gone, nothing but pure, unaltered anger flowed through his veins. Causing him to breathe heavier, his hands curled into fists and he paced the room like a caged cat, running his hands repeatedly over his head.

  It was a feeling Luke made a mental note to take out on the perp once he got his hands on him. It may not be right but his anger was too much to think about anything else. He turned his attention to the clock, staring at it until the face blurred. They were taking too long. Bowing his head, Luke pressed his eyes shut, trying to stop the haze that had fallen over him. When he looked up again, the clock was still out of focus.

  The silence told of time slowly dragging by. Soon, the door sprang open and Michel barged in. “I heard what happened,” he said and Luke walked over and fell against his friend. “Hey, buddy. I've never seen you like this before.”

  Before Luke could say anything Keegan rushed in with Riyu on his heels. “People, we need to get to work,” Keegan spoke before stepping in to give Luke a hug. “I stopped by the house and picked up the evidence we'll need. It was like pulling frigging teeth.”

  Luke wanted to laugh at that but his body was too numb. He couldn't get himself to even smile.

  “Okay,” Michel spoke as the men sat around the table, “let's start with what we've got.”

  Keegan grabbed a chair from the den while Luke spread the photos over the large table. “We have a climbing number of victims that has deviated from the original profile I had of the Ojo Killer. He started out with clean, blond haired vics. It seems as if he was meticulous on whom he chose. Now, he's just grabbing women off the street. Now he has Priety. I know she's still alive because now he wants me to find him.”

  “How do you know that?” Michel questioned.

  “Because her eyes aren't here,” Luke muttered as he focused intently on the pictures before them. The tattoo kept flashing in his head but he didn't know why.

  “I wish we could sit back and wait until he makes a mistake because at the rate he's going, he's bound to.” Keegan frowned.

  Luke knew he was right but no matter how hard he thought about it, he could not think of anything.

  “We have a tattoo artist over on Lombardi who did that tattoo. The hunting shop that sold the perp the knife is also on that street. Michel, you and I will go check out the Lombardi leads. Keegan, you and Riyu take off down to Brair Beach. We have to cover all possibilities and right now these are all we got.”

  “On it.” Keegan stood up and patted his brother on the shoulder. “We will find her.”

  “I think I love her, Keegan.” Luke gave a small, sheepish smile turning to look at Michel, thinking about Priety his sunshine—his breath of fresh air.

  “Ready?”

  “Born ready.” Michel nodded and stood. They all formed a circle, wrapping their arms around each other’s shoulders and bowed their heads. Riyu said a small prayer and the four friends stood there for a split second before stepping away from each other.

  “Let's go hunting,” Keegan growled.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Priety looked around trying to see a way out but she was under a spotlight on the floor. Everything around her was in black
ness and she felt as though on the edge of the world, alone, without Luke and wanted to cry. Her mind flashed back to the last time she felt that way. Her parents had just died and all she could do for days on end was sit in a corner, curled up in a ball and sob.

  It was a horrendous time in her life, a time she never wanted to revisit but this sick, evil person made her live it all over again. Taking a deep breath, she glanced around again hoping the darkness would vanish and she would see her captor, but that didn't work. She started thinking of happy times. How she felt when Luke thought he hurt her during their love making. Since her parents' death, the only person that cared deeply for her was Kerry.

  “Oh God,” Priety whispered as she remembered her friend. She knew Kerry must be worried sick. Priety hadn't called her since that night at her house. She feared her phone call to Kerry would lead the killer to her friend's door.

  Happy times.

  It was her tenth birthday when her father bought her a yellow balloon because he couldn't afford to buy her anything else. Priety thought back to the day and how sad her father was. But Priety was happy just to have the floating object. She took the strings, kissed her father on the cheek and then took off across the yard with the balloon floating above her. She remembered laughing and giggling as the balloon bopped along with her. For it was bright yellow with birthday girl on it.

  But then it popped.

  A loud bang sound that caused Priety to jump so many years later and whimper as sadness coursed through her body at the loss of her gift.

  Happy thoughts.

  The first time Luke kissed her in his office. Sparks turned her body into a live fireworks show that made her moan and melt against his body. Her toes curled at the mere thought of his large, chocolate lips taking hers and she wanted to have him again no matter the danger.

  Happy thoughts.

  Luke loved her. Priety knew that but he hadn't said the words. He hadn't formally told her, but she could tell by the way he touched her; softly, gently, lovingly. She remembered the way he stroked her hair as though she would break, and then reared up from the bed just to take her lips.

  But then he had to go.

  Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts.

  * * * *

  Lombardi Street was the high street of Edison. The place was filled with high-rollers, shot callers, and wanna-be gangsters. The street was lined on both sides with luxury cars, some of which weren't even on the market for regular people yet. Lombardi Street was filled with the Hollywood type.

  It was the busy street that had all the posh hotels, the thousand dollar dinner restaurants and the expensive barbers. Luke remembered going in for a hair cut when he was fifteen and his father dropped three hundred dollars on one hair cut for him. They had the money but Luke didn't see the point. The hair was only going to grow back. His father said, “Son, when you get my age, you learn that you can't take it with you.”

  The street made him uneasy. There were too many lights. He got the feeling of no privacy. The place was like Vegas on steroids and he growled.

  “Let's find this guy and get outta here,” Luke said to Michel who was looking around as he was trained to do. “See it?”

  “Nah—is that it?” Michel pointed and Luke glanced down at the paper in his hand and folded it up. Shoving it into his pocket he nodded and they dodged through traffic to the other side. One car almost slammed into Luke. He brought a fist down on the hood of the car and glared at the driver with enough fury to cause the man to reverse the car and drive away in a hurry.

  Ducking into the tattoo parlor, a blonde woman walked over to them. “Welcome, are you gentlemen looking for a tat?”

  Luke was looking around even as he pulled out his badge and held it up. “We're looking for the person that did this.” Luke held up the piece of paper. He could see the fear in the woman's eyes and Luke felt Michel press in closer.

  “Who did it?” Michel questioned and the woman pointed.

  Holding up their badges, Luke took a deep breath. “Everybody out!” he yelled.

  When no one moved Luke wanted to howl. He was beyond losing his patience and those not co-operating were only making it worse. He decided to ask nicely by pulling out his gun. “Please.”

  They may have been hard of hearing but a black man waving a gun in posh Edison got people's attention; cop or not. People started screaming and tearing for the door.”The gun they get,” Luke shook his head.

  The man made a dash for the door but Michel stuck a foot out and tripped him, “Where you going, Skippy?” Michel questioned as he reached down and hauled the portly man to his feet. “Hang around a while. We need to chat.”

  Luke watched as Michel shoved the man into a chair causing it to wobble before settling back on its legs. He re-holstered his gun and walked calmly over to the door to lock it.

  “Wh-what do you want?” the man questioned but no one answered. Luke was walking back to him and Michel hopped onto the counter.

  “Okay, listen up,” Luke said. He knew the scowl on his face said it all; his mood, his temper, his impatience. “I am a man with very little tolerance for lying; especially when someone I care about is in danger. Understand?”

  The man nodded.

  “Good.” Luke held up the paper. “Did you do this?”

  Again the man nodded.

  “Who got it?”

  The man glanced over at Michel. “Small tolerance,” Michel reminded him by holding up his pinky finger.

  “Some cop,” the man wheezed. His face turned bright red and from somewhere deep inside Luke’s subconscious he knew a human being should not be that color but he didn’t care.

  “Do you understand how many cops there are in this city...this town alone?” Michel inquired from his perch.

  “Be specific.” Luke pushed through gritted teeth.

  “Look, I never got his name. He just said he wanted the tat to remember his mother. Actually he got two tats that day. That one and one set on his chest. I kinda thought it was odd that he got two eyes tattooed to his chest to remember his mother, but I did it. He paid cash and only came back once for a touch up about two weeks ago.”

  Silently, Luke nodded while his mind traveled. “Describe him.”

  “Short, about 5'7”, on the chubby side, slightly balding....brown hair, looks Chinese—yah Chinese. I remember wondering how come a Chinese man had brown hair.”

  Michel and Luke looked at each other. Luke said nothing but Michel arched a brow. “No way.”

  Before Luke could react, sirens could be heard in the distance and Michel was off the counter. The two left the building and made their way down the sidewalk, and made a left onto another street. They wanted to be long gone before the cops came into view of the tattoo parlor.

  “There is no way,” Michel repeated as they pushed into the hunting goods store. The small building looked run down and out of place for a street where nothing costs less than three hundred bucks.

  “Let's see what this guy has to say,” Luke spoke but his mind wandered to their recent discovery. It could have been a huge coincidence but Luke knew that in his line of work, coincidences are few and far between.

  Tiny bells jangled above his head and the dirty looking man at the counter looked up to face them. “Can I 'elp you?” the man questioned closing his newspaper.

  Luke got busy looking through the cabinet of knifes while Michel questioned their store-keeper. Luke stopped and stared. “Can I see that?” He pointed to a particular knife.

  “Yo' 'ave good taste,” the man bared his teeth like a hyena ready to pounce. He removed the blade from the case and handed it to Luke. “This is the Buckskin trader stag hunting knife. It can skin anything you catch out there in the wild. It's designed to cut smoothly and take pressure off ya wrist. The blade, look how thick and heavy the spine is. It has a five inch blade...amazing.”

  “How long have you owned this place?” Luke asked, examining the blade.

  “Forever...ma grand-papi started it; p
assed it down to ma papi, who gave it to me.”

  “Throughout the years how many of these, would you say, have sold?” Luke wanted to know as he placed the blade on the counter.

  “Not many. My papi always comes home with this big grin on his face when he finally sells one because they’re so expensive and you can’t really use them for everything—just skinning the big things. I don’t know if this would mean anything, since you asked. But about twenty five years ago I remember ma papi saying some punk kid bought one once...” the man leaned against the counter. “He remembered because the boy was whistling as he left. Scrawny looking kid, with brown hair, his eyes sunk in like he hadn't slept in years. Papi said he was shocked because he thought the knife was bigger than the kid.”

  “He would stand out to me too.” Michel sighed and turned to face Luke.

  “Tell me,” Luke was almost afraid to ask the question. “Was he white, Indian, black—did he say? Would you remember?”

  “Chinese. I remember because it was the first time in my life I’ve ever heard him use a racist term...” The man had a frown on his face. It was clear he disapproved of racism and Luke had to appreciate that but at the same time, his worse fears came through.

  “Oh damn,” Luke muttered and both he and Michel tore from the store to where they parked their car. Luke was on his cell phone to his brother.

  “Keegan, it's Luke.” Luke tossed the keys over the top of the car and Michel caught them before he hopped into the driver's seat and turned on the ignition. “Bro, I know who has Priety...”

  “Who is it?”

  Luke paused to put on his seat belt before replying to his brother's question, “It's Chen!”

  “Oh hell no!”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The four men hunched down outside the darkened, broken down house and watched through the bushes. The place resembled something out of a horror movie. The windows were boarded in cross-like patterns and the front door was welded shut with the word 'abandoned' written in big red letters across the front door.

  A stale stench was in the air. Luke knew instantly the smell of death; perhaps a different kind of death. Luke was never the kind of person to hurt someone on purpose. But when it came to the killer, he yearned to see the bastard lying at his feet dead. This man had invaded the sanctity of his home; the man who took the one woman who managed to let him feel like a man; the woman who had taken him selflessly into her arms and gave him her innocence. The woman who smiled down at him during their nights and made him want to go out and buy an engagement ring.