by S. C. Stokes
As her eyes came back into focus, she realized she was not alone. There standing over her was Detective Bishop, gun in hand.
“Kasey, what are you doing here?” Bishop demanded.
“It’s…in the house!” Kasey exclaimed, still unable to get to her feet. “Don’t let him get away.” She wanted to warn Bishop of the beasts nature, but didn’t want to sound like a lunatic.
Bishop didn’t wait. She stalked toward the front door. On finding it locked, she leaned back and kicked the door as hard as she could muster. The door caved and burst inward. Kasey worried as Bishop disappeared into the home, hoping a bullet would be enough to put the beast down.
Still unable to stand, she lay on the lawn in agony, trying to piece together a suitable story for Bishop. After a minute, Bishop re-emerged from the home and holstered her weapon.
“Kasey, he’s dead, been dead a while from the look of him. What were you even doing here in the first place?” Bishop strode toward Kasey.
“Following a lead on the car from this morning,” Kasey answered.
“What lead?” Bishop asked. “I only got the tip about the stolen car an hour ago.”
“Evidence from the scene…” Kasey said, still struggling to catch her breath. “We knew the car was silver so… we searched security footage until we found a silver sedan… Then we ran the plate through the database.”
Bishop shook her head.
Kasey struggled off her back, sitting up she continued. “And what do you mean he’s dead? I’m not talking about Lincoln, Bishop. I’m talking about our killer. He was in there” Kasey struggled for a suitable description, one that would not sound insane. “He was massive, he couldn’t have gone far.”
Bishop reached down to help Kasey up.
Kasey took the offered hand only to feel the cold touch of steel as Bishop slid a set of cuffs around her wrist.”
“Bishop, what the…” Kasey began.
“You’re under arrest, Kasey,” Bishop stated. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say, can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during questioning. Do you understand your rights as I have explained them?”
“What are you doing, Bishop? You’re wasting time,” Kasey answered, shaking the cuff. “What are these? I’m on your side.”
“On my side?” Bishop asked. “And what side would that be? You show up here, out of the blue with a dead body and a story so leaky it could be a colander. What do you expect me to do? You're staying in those cuffs until I work out what on earth is going on here.”
Kasey lost it. “We are so close, for crying out loud! The killer was in there only moments ago. He threw me through the window, did you not see that? Do you think that I threw myself through the window?”
“Well, now that you mention it, you could well have leaped through the window. There was certainly no sign of anyone else in the house, other than that body, and he certainly isn’t in any shape to throw you through the window.”
Kasey pounded her knees in frustration. “I didn't even know it was you out here, so why would I throw myself through a window when it could have been anyone waiting here? If I was guilty, wouldn't I have just legged it out the back door like the killer did.”
“I don't know, Kasey. You’ve been acting increasingly erratic these last few days. I don't know what you would have done, or why you are even here. We will get to the bottom of it though, and we'll be doing it at the station. Backup is on the way. As soon as they secure the scene, we’re out of here,” Bishop answered.
The sound of sirens in the distance grew nearer.
“Erratic, Bishop? It seems to have escaped your attention, but someone is roaming the city killing women that look like me. I’m sorry if I appear a little on edge.” Sarcasm dripped from every word.
Kasey shook her head. By the time I get through to Bishop, he is going to be long gone. And what is he, anyway? Kasey wondered how she might explain the hulking wolf creature to the NYPD. I'm going to sound even crazier than usual.
Changing tact, she implored Bishop. “Fine, Bishop, take me down to the station but first, please go inside and grab the folders. They are scattered around the living room. I was trying to get out of the house when the killer confronted me. The folders contain detailed profiles of all the victims. Beth, Brandy, they are both there, but more importantly there are a stack of others, as well. There must be close to twenty. If you are going to drag me down the station, at least bring those so that we have something useful to talk about. The psychopath has plans for other women, Bishop. The two we've seen so far are just a drop in the ocean. Even now, the others are in danger.”
Bishop looked from Kasey to the house and then back to Kasey. “Fine, but not until you're in the back seat. I'm not chasing you through suburbia if you decide to do a runner.”
“Arghh!” Kasey said dragging herself to her feet. “Let's go. Toss me in the car and get in the house. We need those folders, and these girls need us. I almost died today. The least you can do is make sure we get the evidence I found.”
“Suit yourself,” Bishop replied, picking Kasey up by the arm and leading her to the squad car. She opened the door and gestured to the back seat. “Mind your head.” She pushed Kasey into the car.
Kasey seethed but decided to hold her tongue. Bishop was stubborn and she knew it. The harder she fought, the more Bishop would dig in. Kasey needed the evidence to vindicate her. Strode had been dead for days and Kasey had a solid alibi. She had spent most of that time with Bishop and the rest of it in the station. The real question was how much damage the killer would do in the meantime.
Bishop disappeared back into the house, and Kasey weighed her options.
Part of her considered blasting through the handcuffs and escaping but she knew in her heart how that would end. The NYPD would focus its efforts on finding her rather than the killer and the beast would be left to roam free. Who knew how many more lives would be lost.
She sat still, biding her time as another squad car rolled up. The officers flashed Kasey a confused look as they headed into the house. Bishop emerged moments later, her hands bulging with papers and folders. She dumped the paperwork on the front seat and then climbed into the driver side.
Fastening her seatbelt, she turned to Kasey. “I just had another look at that body, Kasey. We are going down to the station and you are going to tell me exactly what happened in the house.”
She turned and started the car.
I don't think I can do that.
She was still trying to piece together what had happened herself.
Kasey sat in the same chair Brad had occupied the day before. Her fingers pounding a rhythmic beat into the steel table of the interrogation room. Without her phone, it was difficult to tell just how long she had been sitting here. She knew at least an hour had lapsed.
Somewhere out there, a killer was targeting young women. The fact that those young women all bore more than a passing resemblance to herself had nagged her from the moment Vida had drawn her attention to it. Now having seen the folders containing his targets’ identities, every passing hour grated on her nerves.
I wish I’d had the time to read them all.
Her desire to help others was strong, but her sense of self-preservation was even stronger.
After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened and Bishop entered, accompanied by Vida. Bishop carried with her the pile of manila folders, however now they seemed far more ordered than the jumbled mess she had tossed on the front seat of the squad car.
She placed the folders in the center of the table and quietly made her way around the table to reach Kasey. “Sorry about the cuffs, Kasey, but you have to admit, finding you at the scene like that didn't give me a lot of choices.”
“I don't know, Bishop, you could have tried listening to me,” Kasey replied, more than a little annoyed.
Bishop reached over and unlocked the c
uffs. “Well, next time you are going to try to track down a serial killer all on your own, perhaps you'll think it out a little further and give me the courtesy of a heads up.”
Kasey rubbed her newly freed wrists. “Does this mean I'm no longer a suspect?”
“Indeed, it does,” Bishop replied. “Vida's inspection of the body showed that he's been dead for days. Likely killed by whoever stole his car and used it to run down Brandy. At the time in question, you and I were here in the station interrogating Brad. You couldn't have done it.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Bishop. I would have preferred, 'of course not, Kasey, we know you're not a murdering psychopath.' I mean, you have spent the better part of ten days working side-by-side with me. I would have thought you'd figured out at least that much by now.”
“Sure, that too,” Bishop replied unconvincingly. She wasn't one for apologizing, and Kasey knew it. Bishop would stick to her guns and do her job first; social niceties came second. It was both her best and her worst trait all rolled into one. “Now if we can get past everyone's hurt feelings, we have a case to solve. Vida mentioned your earlier theory about a serial killer. I wish you had said something sooner. We could have begun comparing and analyzing the victims to work out the killers M.O. Fortunately for us, you stumbled onto a gold mine, Kasey.” Bishop tapped the folders in front of her. “Most serial killers aren't dumb enough to document their targets and leave them lying around for us to find.”
“I don't think he was expecting us to show up when we did,” Kasey replied. “I think I took him by surprise. After reporting Strode's car as stolen, he probably thought he had more than a few hours to relocate. It seems like he's been using Lincoln's house as his base of operations.”
“Yes, it does, which in and of itself is quite strange. Most serial killers operate from a place of comfort, like their own home. Yet this one seems to stay on the move, using Strode’s home and car instead of his own. It’s unconventional, to say the least. Normally, I would think he is acting erratically, but all evidence is to the contrary. We haven't caught him on a single camera, neither has he left any meaningful evidence at any of the scenes. Instead, he has carried out his killings with clinical efficiency. This man is dangerous Kasey, and you're the only one who's even seen him. What did he look like?”
“Sorry, Bishop, but I'm not going to be a whole lot of help there. The guy got the drop on me and he was wearing a balaclava. I can tell you he was massive though, well over seven foot, maybe as tall as seven foot six. We tussled and I tried to get a better look at his face but I got thrown through the window for my troubles.”
“You're lucky he didn't kill you, Kasey,” Bishop replied.
“I think he was too busy trying to escape to worry about me,” Kasey answered. “He only took an interest in me after he saw me with those folders. They're loaded with information about his victims. It's like he's been stalking them for weeks.”
“We know, Kasey. We've been through them… that’s why we are surprised you're still alive.”
“Still alive? I don't get it,” Kasey answered.
Bishop and Vida exchanged nervous glances.
Bishop drew the topmost folder off the pile and slid it across the table in front of Kasey. “Kasey, we thought you knew… You're in the folder.”
Kasey ripped the folder off the table and flicked it open. There staring back at her was a picture of herself. It had her current name, date of birth, and study history ending with NYU. It outlined her employment with the OCME and her transfer to the NYPD. It also had an extensive background on her family. Her parents were listed, along with her sister and family. Kasey felt violated. The creep had been following her for weeks, maybe months.
Vida was first to break the awkward silence. “I know we joked about it before, Kasey, but it is no joke now. This man is hunting you. You could have been killed.”
“All the more reason for us to find him,” Kasey bit back. “We need to find him before he kills anyone else. Me being in this pile changes nothing.” She tried putting on a brave face, but the realization had shaken her to her core. “There are more than a dozen other women at risk here. At least I know what's coming my way. These other women have no idea…”
“The department will take care of them, Kasey,” Bishop replied. “We need to keep you safe.”
“Well, I don’t think I could be much safer than I am here,” Kasey said. “I doubt he’s going to tackle the entirety of the Fighting Ninth just to get to me. Besides, I am the only person who has seen him. I’m far more useful with you than I am cooped up at home. You need me and I need to be here.”
“Fine,” Bishop relented. “But no more running around on your own. You’ll get yourself killed.”
“I can live with that,” Kasey replied. “Where do we start?”
“We start with these folders. We need to know what else links all these women together. We know they look similar, but there must be something more, otherwise we’d have hundreds of folders, not twenty. If we can find what that something is, we can cut him off at the pass,” Bishop replied spreading the folders out on the table.
“Any ideas?” Kasey asked. “It seems like you’ve been through them once already.”
“Not particularly,” Bishop responded, a little defeated. “They are all in their late 20’s, all of them are between five-five and six-two. All of them live in New York City or its surrounds. Other than that, I am struggling to draw any common threads between them. They aren’t related and as far as I can tell there is no overlap in dating history. So, we aren’t dealing with a crazy ex-boyfriend.”
“The fact that all the victims are women does indicate a bias in his profiling,” Vida began. “Maybe he was rejected by a lover and is taking it out on anyone he can find who bears a passing resemblance to her.”
“Perhaps,” Bishop replied. “I’ve certainly seen weirder things over the years. But those kinds of murders normally follow a pattern though. Each victim killed in the same manner, the emotion of the killer lends itself to a messy scene. So far, our killer has struck twice, both scenes were completely different. We wouldn’t have even linked the two if it hadn’t been for Kasey finding these folders. These murders are clean, almost surgical. This man is dangerous. We need to tread carefully.”
The three pored over the folders as they searched for answers.
After an hour, Bishop threw her folder on the table in disgust. “I know there is more to this we aren’t seeing. But for the life of me I can’t find it. It’s so irritating, together in a pool these women are obviously similar. Similar in height, weight, age, and appearance. But you take any two of them and that is where it ends. They don’t work together, date the same people, or even share the same hobbies. It makes no sense.”
“That’s because there is none,” Vida replied. “On their own, they seem random and together they seem similar but remain only loosely connected. He’s not trying to kill every twenty-something year old brunette in New York. He’s singled out these women for a reason. I think our killer is looking for someone or something and these folders are just his attempt to narrow the field.”
“I guess it’s something and that’s good news,” Kasey answered.
“Yes and no,” Vida replied. “If he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, he may just widen the net. If we don’t find him, there is no telling how far he’ll go.”
“Well, we know who he’s after,” Kasey said. “If we follow these women, he’s bound to show up eventually.”
“We can’t use them as bait, Kasey.” Bishop pinched the bridge of her nose. “Besides, we’ve already dispatched officers to round up as many as we can.”
There was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Bishop called.
The door opened and an officer’s head appeared through the crack. The officer was a few years younger than Kasey.
“What’s up, Stevens?” Bishop asked as she resumed studying the folders before her.
; “We are working with other precincts across the city to round up these women, detective. We have most of them in our care. Of the potential victims living in our borough, we have all but one.”
“Who’s missing?” Bishop asked.
“Trudie Sears. She wasn’t home when we stopped by her apartment. Apparently, she works at a bar in Brooklyn. The Drift. We have officers heading there now…”
Kasey’s chair ground against the floor as she shot out of it. “Bishop, we’ve got to go.”
“Go where, Kasey?”
“There!” Kasey exclaimed. “The Drift. When I first searched through the folders, Trudie’s was 3rd. Right after Beth and Brandy. If our killer is working in order, Trudie is next on his list.”
Bishop leaped to her feet. “Stevens, get on dispatch now. Warn those officers that they are about to have company. Hold tight we’re on our way.”
Chapter Eleven
Kasey did her best to ignore the blaring sirens as the squad car made its way over the Williamsburg Bridge. Bishop took no prisoners as she tore through Brooklyn. Even at this late hour, there was traffic but with the lights and sirens helping to clear a path, they reached the Brooklyn Queens Expressway in record time.
A burst of static issued from the radio. “Bishop, this is Henley, we are en route to The Drift but there has been an accident on Queens Boulevard. We are at a standstill.”
Bishop grabbed the radio with one hand and pressed the transmit button. “Henley, Bishop here. We are en route from the precinct and are only minutes away. Are you sure she’s working tonight?”
“Affirmative. Building super spoke with her on the way out. Started her shift at six, and works till the early hours,” Henley replied.
“Well get here as soon as you can. We have reason to believe the killer may be in the area. We could use the backup.”
“Understood, Bishop. We’ll be there as soon as we can,” Henley answered.
Bishop slammed down the radio. “It’s you and me, Kasey.”
“You keep driving like this, Bishop, and Trudie is going to be on her own,” Kasey replied, gripping her seat as Bishop made the u-turn under the Brooklyn Queens Expressway.