Killers Among

by S. E. Green

  He’s not moving.

  He’s no longer gurgling.

  He’s dead.

  I come here for Teddy and end up accidentally killing some random stranger. I have no clue who this guy is. If he’s good, bad. For all I know he could have been here for the same reason I was, to rough Teddy up. To teach him a lesson.

  I don’t do things in the moment like this. I plan. I wait. Nothing’s ever spontaneous.

  I need to get out of here.

  I throw the towels down, and my gaze catches on a phone laying on the floor. Teddy must have dropped it in his hasty escape. On a quick thought, I snatch it up and hurry back the way I came.

  Back in my Jeep, I strip my gloves and mask, carefully inspecting my entire body for the unknown man’s blood. I don’t see any, but still, I strip, wadding my outfit up inside my duffle and slipping back into a pair of jeans and short sleeve tee.

  I crank my engine and drive in a daze from the neighborhood and back onto the interstate. Four. I’ve now killed four people.

  The serial killer, The Decapitator, was the first. Or rather my mother, though of course at the time I had no clue. She deserved it, there is no doubt in my mind of that, but afterward, I was off my game. For months I walked around in a haze, trying to make sense of everything I thought I knew.

  Then Aunt Marji strolled into my life. My second kill, and again, I hold no reservation that she deserved it. She was just as disgusting as my mother. I told myself I was going to torture Marji only, but when I held that knife in my hands when she taunted me, rage surged through me and I couldn’t stop the downward propulsion of the blade. Afterward, unlike with Mom’s death, I didn’t walk around in a haze. What happened with Marji empowered me.

  Catalina, my copycat, was the third. Though in reality, she fell on her knife while we were fighting. I didn’t plunge my blade into her body as I did with Aunt Marji. I could have helped Catalina, but I didn’t. I didn’t feel the boiling anger like I did with Marji, but I stood over Catalina and watched her die. She killed Dr. Issa and harmed so many others. Bleeding out was the least she deserved.

  And now the fourth, this unknown and accidental man. Knives. After what happened with Mom and Aunt Marji, I wanted to leave that “inheritance” behind me. And here I am once again, death by a knife.

  I try to grasp a thought or a feeling on the matter, but the numbness and haze in my brain remind me of the time span after The Decapitator. I need to make sense of the kill.

  Forty-five minutes go by and I’m not entirely sure how or why, but I end up at Tommy’s apartment and parking along the curb. He lives alone in a basement studio of someone’s house. I spy his bike parked in the driveway and get a little irritated that he didn’t tell me he was back.

  Then again he may have just gotten home.

  All that aside, the thought of seeing him has my heart picking up pace faster than it was forty-five minutes ago when I stabbed some random guy. It’s beating fast like it was after Aunt Marji.

  I find that curious.

  Jumping from my Jeep, I stroll over, and the closer I get the more my skin buzzes. It takes him a few seconds to answer my knock and pure surprise flashes through his blue eyes. The last time I saw him, blonde stubble covered his cheeks that are now cleanly shaven. Bummer. I liked the stubble.

  “Hey,” he says. “How’d you know I was home? You stalking me?”

  Sort of. I have driven by here a few times. “Don’t flatter yourself,” I say instead which makes him chuckle.

  The sound of that chuckle, slow and methodical and coming from deep in his throat, has the buzzing along my skin crawling into my scalp. My fingers flex. I need something, but I’m not sure what.

  Stepping back, he lets me in and my gaze tracks over to the black saddle bag sitting beside the door and the black leather jacket draped over top. I guess he really did just get in.

  He slides behind me, closing the door, and his scent, a mixture of leather and soap, wafts through my senses and turns me on quicker than anything Dr. Issa ever did. I turn to face Tommy and find him leaning up against the door, his arms folded, staring at me.

  My body temp ratchets up several degrees, and I have the unnerving desire to strip naked.

  I rotate my neck, and my gaze eats up his blonde hair that’s grown out since the last time I saw him, thick and a bit of wave to it. My eyes track down across the curve of his tattooed bicep, over the firm line of his pecs, further down his flat abs, and all the way to trail his long-muscled legs.

  My nerve endings stretch. I don’t know what’s going on with my body. Maybe it’s the kill and delayed aftershocks, or maybe it’s Tommy. Hell, it’s probably a combination of both, but my gaze comes back up to meet his, and in the time I was visually devouring his body, something shifted in his eyes. An awareness, sure, but a heat, too. A hunger.

  He’s feeling this, too.

  “You cut your hair,” he says, his voice low, and I don’t respond. I don’t even nod, as my mind dives into dark and carnal images of our bodies pressed together. They flick through my head in rapid fire, but it’s the last one my brain latches onto. Me on my knees, undoing his belt.

  “Everything okay?” he whispers.

  Again, I don’t respond. Instead, I do exactly what I want. I drop to my knees and undo his pants.

  Afterward, Tommy’s still standing propped against the door, and I get to my feet. I watch as he slowly puts his jeans back together and then he pushes off the door and steps forward. His eyes touch the features of my face. “You do realize we’ve never even kissed.”

  “You complaining?”

  “Uh, that would be a no.” His strong fingers slide through my hair and he brings his lips to mine. The kiss goes long and firm and when he pulls back, he nips my bottom lip. “I’m in the mood for Jell-O.”

  My lips twitch. “Jell-O?”

  He nods. “Jell-O.”

  I follow him into the kitchen where he retrieves two Jell-O cups from the refrigerator. One cherry and one lime. I take the lime and in silence, we stare at each other as we eat our treat. I don’t want my mind to, but it wanders to the unknown man I stabbed. I need to find out who it is.

  “Where’d you just go?” Tommy asks, tossing his empty cup into the garbage.

  I forgot how good he is at reading me. “Nowhere,” I say, tossing mine away, too.

  “What made you come here?” He asks next.

  I don’t answer because I’m not sure. I accidentally kill someone and my body on autopilot brings me here. My mother butchered Tommy’s sister, though of course he doesn’t know this, and our relationship has been one giant roller coaster since then. But somewhere along the way, Tommy must have become my safe place.

  “Got another Jell-O?” I ask instead of answering his question because oddly enough lime Jell-O just officially became my new favorite thing.

  His lips twitch, mirroring mine. “All out.”

  I sigh. “Well, whatever will you do for dessert now?”

  Tommy chuckles and the sound of it vibrates through my stomach. I turn away before I get down on my knees again and cross back over to his door.

  “Next time I’ll return the favor,” he speaks as I open the door.

  I don’t turn around, but I do smile. Hell, yeah, he’s going to return the favor.

  5

  THE NEXT MORNING I open my laptop and do a quick search of Loudoun County news, trying to figure out who I killed. Right there it is front and center, and holy freaking shit.

  I killed Scott Butler, son of the District Attorney, which means this thing’s about to become huge. District Attorney Butler is well-liked and known for going after and putting away the bad guys. She’s got a hard-ass reputation. If she had been handling Teddy’s case, I guarantee you he wouldn’t have gotten off on some evidence technicality.

  Though I’ve never met her, she and Victor go way back, like high school back. I’m not certain, but it seems like I remember him mentioning they went to Homecoming together.
Watch her turn out to be the one that “got away”. Wouldn’t that just be my luck?

  I do a quick search of Scott Butler and read that he was a well-loved Guidance Counselor at a local high school. The article speculates that he was at Teddy’s house, confronting him about the girl who was killed. Apparently, the girl was a student where Scott worked.

  So he did go to Teddy’s house for the same reason I was there—to confront Teddy—and it ended with me accidentally stabbing him.

  Talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  6

  LATER THAT DAY after my Patch and Paw shift, I find myself back in Loudoun County and parked down the street from Teddy’s house. The police have barricaded the area and numerous neighbors stand clumped on this side of the barricade watching the cops move in and out of Teddy’s house.

  Slipping on my shades, I merge with the neighbors, watching, listening… I need to know what the police really think. More importantly, do they suspect a third party was in the house?

  “Brutal struggle…”

  “…Stab wound to the abdomen.”

  “Some dipshit rookie walked through the scene…”

  “…Ted Lowman’s gonna wish he was dead.”

  “He’s the guy who killed that high school girl and got away…”

  “…shit ton of drugs in the house.”

  “Wonder where Ted ran to…”

  “…this is about as high profile as it gets.”

  I listen carefully, taking it all in. I’m not sure how the neighbors know all of this, but I assume many of them have been out here for hours. I should be happy people think Ted Lowman is guilty of the stabbing, but I’m not. Maybe if I had accidentally stabbed someone who deserved it, I would be. As it is, though, Scott Butler is the hero in this story and more alive in my thoughts than dead.

  “I knew this house was trouble…”

  “…maybe Ted’s hiding out somewhere local.”

  I doubt it. Ted Lowman is long gone. He’s not coming back. Not with people thinking he killed the D.A.’s son.

  Beside me, someone sighs, heavy and deep, and moving only my eyes I glance to the left and to the boy standing there. He’s the only one in this clump of neighbors who hasn’t said a word.

  Behind my sunglasses, I size him up. He’s about my height and looks a bit younger, like Daisy’s age, sixteen or so. With his dark curly hair, black-rimmed glasses, pale skin, and slender build, I imagine he spends his days playing video games more than anything else.

  Under his breath, he snorts and shakes his head. “Look at her, all high and mighty.”

  My gaze tracks back over to Teddy’s house and the cops going in and out. On the porch stands District Attorney Butler, her dark hair chic short and her blue pantsuit perfectly pressed. She’s focused intently on whatever the detective is saying.

  My eyes trail over her petite body and perfect posture, and the first thing I think of is my stepdad. He knew her in high school. He went with her to Homecoming. I find this interesting. I’ve only ever known him with my mom, but of course, he had a life before her.

  “‘I’ve dedicated my life to fighting crime’,” the boy beside me mumbles. “‘To keeping our streets safe’.” With a scoff, the boy turns away. “Good luck with this one, Mom.”

  Whoa, hold up. Did he just say “Mom”? As in the D.A.? Well, this is interesting. “Excuse me,” I say, turning away from the neighborhood clump and trailing behind the boy. “Did I just hear you right? Is the D.A. your mom?”

  The boy doesn’t even look at me as he keeps walking. “That’s right.”

  “So you’re the victim’s younger brother?”

  “Yeah, and his name was Scott, not victim, and if you say ‘sorry for your loss’ I’m going postal.”

  I don’t say anything, but I do keep following him. He’s definitely piqued my interest.

  The boy turns then, pushing his glasses up, and now that I’m really looking at his face, I definitely see the resemblance from the picture I saw of Scott on the news. Dark curly hair, pale skin, freckles, light brown eyes.

  The fact is his brother, Scott, was here and had a knife on him. He was trying to harm Teddy, or at least he was thinking of harming Teddy. Then when Scott saw me, he got startled and attacked. Maybe he was here on a purely noble mission to avenge a student’s death, but something’s not sitting right.

  Yes, my gut tells me something else is going on.

  “They say Scott fought like a hero, but that he was overmatched. Fatal stab, bled out instantly. Didn’t suffer.” The boy thumbs himself in the chest. “I want to know why. I want to understand what happened. I thought coming here and looking would help me make sense of his death. But…I can’t believe he’s gone.” Behind his glasses, he rubs his light brown eyes, then blinks at me. “You ever lost anybody?”

  Through my shades, I look at this boy whose name I don’t even know. I’m not sure what to make of him. He seemed cynical at first and now full of a depth I wasn’t expecting. “Yes,” I find myself telling him. “My mom.”

  “That sucks.”

  To that, I don’t respond.

  “People really loved him, ya know? He even got teacher of the year.”

  No, I don’t know, but I nod.

  “I mean he wasn’t perfect, but…” With a sigh, the boy looks away. “Well, I guess I’m going to go.”

  With a nod, I watch him walk over to an old Chevy and climb inside, then he cranks the engine and drives away. That was the oddest conversation I think I’ve ever had.

  The neighborhood looky-loos begin to break apart and wander off. Two stroll right past me. “Whatever,” the woman on the right says. “I’ve seen that Scott guy here before. He’s no hero Guidance Counselor defending the honor of the dead girl. He and Ted Lowman had something else going on.”

  And there it is. I turn to head back to my Jeep and catch sight of District Attorney Butler still standing on the porch, but she's no longer talking to the detective, she’s staring across the yard and the police barricade right at me.

  7

  THAT EVENING I walk inside my home and see my family in the living room watching a movie. I note that it’s Dirty Dancing, Mom’s favorite.

  My stepdad pauses the movie, glancing over at me. “Missed you at the grave,” he says, getting right to the point, and his tone is like a slap to the face.

  It’s been a couple of days. I’m surprised he’s choosing now to bring it up. Maybe because they’re watching Mom’s movie.

  My gaze tracks over to Daisy to see her looking back at me with the exact expression Victor has—disappointment, hurt, and a touch of anger. I glance to Justin next to see his dark head bowed over a comic book, reading. I think Daisy and Victor could use a lesson from Justin in moving on.

  Daisy’s blue eyes narrow. “I texted you to remind you.”

  “I know.”

  With a sigh, Daisy looks at Victor, I guess expecting him to reprimand me or something. It’s interesting to me how close Daisy is to Mom now that she’s dead.

  “So,” Daisy says, pushing at me verbally, “you’re just going to stop visiting Mom’s grave?”

  I look between my stepdad and Daisy. “I’m in a different place than you two. I don’t want to visit Mom’s grave, and you need to respect that. Just like I respect the fact that you want to visit her.”

  A couple of seconds go by while everyone apparently thinks about what I just said, then with a nod, Victor gets up from the couch and crosses the living room to where I still stand at the front door. He wraps me up in a warm and secure hug, and a very distinct sensation of love moves through me.

  “You’re right,” he tells me. “You grieve how you want to.”

  He pulls away, and I look up into his eyes. That sensation of love transitions into something even deeper, and I truly mean it when I say, “I love you, Dad.” I forget how much he likes it when I call him that.

  “I love you, too, sweetie.”

  My eyes cut ov
er to Daisy and Justin. “I love both of you very much.”

  Daisy’s hostility merges with a flash of tenderness, and she gets this confused expression like she’s not quite sure how the air in the room shifted. “Did you just say you loved us?”

  Of course, I’ve said it before, but not as often as I probably should. “Yes, I did.”

  Justin finally glances up from his comic book. “Of course Lane loves us. Leave her alone.”

  With a chuckle, Victor moves into the kitchen. “M&Ms with our popcorn?”

  “Yeah!” Justin yells, jumping up.

  Victor cuts me a quick glance. “If I pick another movie, will you join us?”

  “Yes,” I don’t hesitate in saying. “Let me just run upstairs and I’ll be right back.”

  I take the steps two at a time, smiling, actually looking forward to going back down and hanging out with my family.

  The only thing I want to do is run a quick search on Scott Butler and specifically his little brother’s name. But when I open my laptop, the headline on my news feed catches my attention and the attached girl’s photo.

  It’s the same girl who was snuggling on the couch with old Teddy Bear, or more importantly, caressing his crotch. The headline reads:

  GIRL FOUND STRANGLED

  Strangled. It’s the same way he allegedly killed the other girl. Looks like Teddy’s in the area after all.

  8

  THE NEXT MORNING Daisy and I stand in the kitchen staring out into the living room where Justin and his friends are hanging out. Somehow we got wrangled into watching them this morning. I like kids. They’re fun to play with, or rather I enjoy watching them play, but I know with one hundred percent certainty that I don’t want any of my own.

  I would never take the chance of passing down my warped genetics. Plus, what kind of mom would I be? I’ve killed people.