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The Killer’s Interrupted Play Time
Claire was always bitching about one thing or money, time together, the kid. I had to get out of there, or I would take it out on her and blow my perfect marriage. Perfect marriage, my ass. But it looks perfect from the outside, anyone looking in wouldn’t have a clue. I am in control of this relationship, of my life. I am. Not that bitch. Not my father. Me. I got in the car and started my hunt. Normally, I plan my attacks. But then I spotted him standing on the street corner, innocently, like he didn’t do all of that stuff. What is he doing there? No one thought that he could do all those horrible things to his own family; he was a pediatrician for goodness sakes! But he did.
Every single muscle in my body was tense from excitement. The darkness of my soul, the darkness he created, the soul he shared with me, was shining in this moment. Every single limb of my body wanted to feel his blood against my flesh. The fact that I had to wait excited me even more, the hunt for revenge this time. As if he, no It is really a human being, but to me It is prey. I am better. I am god to this puny little ant of a thing. Finally, It is alone; I step up and walk towards It.
“Hey, you got a light?” I ask, trying to hide my lust, my urge to see him bleed. He doesn’t recognize me from the timid little boy I was when he was around.
“Sure,” It, said slightly annoyed that It was being bothered, not aware that I knew was a horrible creature I was talking to. It threw the lighter at me. It THREW the lighter at me. I took it and then I made like I was going to start smoking. Filthy habit, never liked it myself, but the first form of contact is mandatory. Before It even knew what was happening I had the knife pointed at It’s chest, not touching it. I couldn’t believe that I was doing this. It was surreal…like something in a dream. A glorious glorious bloody dream.
“Come with me.” I said letting my voice be true to its nature. The thing that I used to call my father wasn’t sure if he should listen or laugh until he felt the cold sharpness of the steel was moving along his throat, so delicately it almost tickled, and a thin stream of blood ran down his throat. A thick reddish-brown beautiful liquid. I was doing that so as not to ruin my dad yet, he took his time with Mel and me and he deserves the same. It nodded and stuttered a bit. “I don’t have money….but…but.” God, this begging was boring! Not the kind I like or not the kind he should be doing. I shoved the knife harder into his throat, bust still not enough to kill him, just to make that wonderful thick reddish-brown stream thicker. He was pressed against the back of the fast food dumpster after we wrestled a bit and after he bit me and I broke his wrist. The smell of old rotting food filled both of our nostrils, but I wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t. I heard it crying about his wife and kid. The wife he beat and raped. The daughter he drove to suicide.
I started my revenge as I stabbed him, slowly taking my time and taking non fatal stabs just to see him squirm.
“Why are you doing this? I did…nothing…Why?” It panted out, while clinging on to his breath, fear of exhaling.
“Why?! You DARE ask me why?! Shut up DAD! Just…SHUT UP!” I paced back and forth, the blade waving around and with every hand movement, blood spattered all over the place.
“Dad? I’m..I’m not your father.” It said, almost confused.
“Hell ya you weren’t my father! You think being a father means beating your kids every day! Or how about Mel? Huh?” I said angrily, how my father could forget about Mel, my older sister who killed herself because of his abuse, just baffled me. My eyes turned ice cold.
“You shouldn‘t have hurt them.” I said coldly as, I took the blade and cut of his right pinky toe. “Not so funny when I do it, huh dad?” I say as I remember that thing laughing at a seven year old me writhing in pain as he cut off my toe for mouthing off to him. I looked at my dad...who just turned into someone a few years younger, thinner…hmm, guess It wasn’t my father. I played with what was left of my toy for a while…then I felt someone’s eyes on me. Creepy feeling. How long they were watching? What did they see?
Anyway, I don’t liked to be watched. Not while fucking, not when killing. But there were witnesses, at least two. One skittered away during my act. The other one stayed. Not looking away. What a perv. I like to do my deed alone, as I said before. My clean up wouldn’t hardly be as good than if I was alone and if I had the time to, and if this perv wasn’t staring at me. Guess I’ll kill him too. Then I can clean both of them up…do I have enough duck tape to cover them? But enough so that I can cover their dismembered parts? No, not enough so I am sure I don’t get caught. I looked back down at the guy I killed. It really did look a lot my sperm donor, the one who had enough guts to call himself my father. Probably why I made do all these things…because of my dad. Hell, I just killed a man. Hmm?
A brief moment of insanity had run through my mind, but was fortunately was quickly gone. I had business to attend to before I moved on to the perv. I started to approach him with my hand getting that tingling feeling at the thought of getting another blood bath. Then I saw the cell phone. A string of profanities ran through my mind as I hoped that maybe I could just pass as a witness…I didn’t get to clean up the guy, but hell it was only one time.
I ducked into the nearest bar, and ran into the bathroom. I shoved the bloody clothes in the toilet and then started to wash up. Face and nails. I changed clothes with one of the passed-out guys there. Lucky for me there always is a passed-out person around here. Okay, deep calm breath. Maybe, hopefully, they’ll think that I was just here passed-out. I walked back out into the bar, looks differently then when I first walked in there. I ruffled my hair a bit and walk up to the bartender, “I’ll have something to make the head ache go away.” I said with a slight charming smile.
“I have just the thing for that! A taxi ride home mister and a good night sleep.” The woman bartender said. She was not too bad looking, probably got hit on all the time around here and just didn’t want to deal with another horny drunk. No matter what the tip would be. That’s fine with me.
“You got it, just call ‘em for me sweet cheeks.” I said a bit overly cheery, with a wide smile on my face.
“Okay, just wait here.” She said as she walked to the phone, smiling over at me. And I smile back, she really just thinks I’m just a horny drunk that stumbled out of the bathroom after spending the night lying in my own fifth. Ha! Maybe I’m better that I thought.
She lead me outside and I got into the cab, gave him my address and once home, gave my wife a deep kiss and crawled into bed. What? It was a long night.
Chapter One
My husband and I got into another fight, this time he almost hit me but left before anything happened. When he came home he gave me a deep kiss and went to bed. I choose to ignore the fact that he was wearing someone else’s clothes and reeked of beer, and something else. I know deep down that it was blood, but not my baby. He wouldn’t hurt anyone…not unless he was provoked. He never hurt Savannah or Adam, our twins, or me…never physically at least. I’m sure he means bitch and all those other names in the most affectionately way possible. I don’t take it personally, except when Adam copies his behavior. We are trying, we really are. He only acts this way because of how he grew up.
I look over at him, sleeping. He looks so sweet, almost angelic. He was at one time. Not anymore though. I mean its fine, our marriage, our life its fine. It looks my light woke him up.
“Claire, get your fat ass to bed and stop writing in that damn journal.” He mumbled as he rolled over. “Better yet, get started on breakfast.” It’s three in the morning, but guess I won’t be sleeping tonight.
I start to make breakfast and yawn, but it had to get done. Homemade pancakes and orange juice sounds good. I turn on the mini tv in the kitchen and look at the screen as the pancakes start to form. Another murder, this time a male, behind that bar my baby took me when we started to go out. A picture of the victim flashed on the screen and my jaw almost dropped. That man looks like my Christopher father-in-law, I change the channel. I don’t want to even think about murder right now…or ever. I stop thinking about anything except pancakes. They have to be perfect.
I wonder what he does when he leaves…do I really want to know?
No. I don’t.
Chapter Two
You know what? I think having a purple sky would be awesome. No really. The sky’s been blue for what, a million years? A billion years? Something like that. Anyway, I think its time for a change. Those boys at NASA, or wherever it is that they keep the aliens that are secretly running the government, should come up with some kind of spray to turn the sky purple. Or maybe orange would be better. They could make it just like the spray that causes the people who have stumbled on the mutants behind Area 51 to forget what happened to them.
What the? Why is a strange girl staring at me? It’s not like I’m out of it or anything. Oh wait, I am, I injected heroin just a little while ago. Or maybe it was a couple hours ago. Who’s counting anyways?
Where was I? Oh yeah, the girl. Who is she again? Now I remember! She’s a costumer. She wants to be hit up with some of my goods, man. Oh wait, does she? I think she does. Not that it matters to me, but I will get money out of it. Not that money is really important in this life. It would be awesome if we could just abolish the monetary rules and live in a free society. Those hippies had it right. I sound pretty smart, don’t I? Well that’s because I went to college. Had some pretty good times too, but I dropped out. Oh well. Oh yeah, the girl!
“Um, you are the dealer, aren’t you?” she asked tentatively, like she wasn’t sure if she wanted me to be or not.
“Sure, sure,” I said lazily, “I’m a dealer. But not the dealer. Isn’t that like, blasphemy, or something. I’m pretty sure that the dealer is another name for God. But never mind that, you wanted some goods?”
“Uh, yeah,” she said, looking pretty scared by my demeanor. Huh. Maybe she’s never seen someone like me before. Come to think of it, people always said that my philosophies were, um, unique.
“Okay, alright, here we go,” I mumbled, the wonderful injection from earlier making it hard to speak right. I love the hallucinations that my little friends bring. Yesterday, I saw a walking piece of man shaped bubble gum. It was chewed and everything. The hallucinations can also be really creative, like for instance, there’s two men in that nearby alley, and one of them looks like he’s stabbing the other. Huh, isn’t that a weird hallucination.
Hold on.
I double checked, but it was still there, not even wavering like most of my hallucinations did. I sucked in my cheeks. A guy was getting murdered, right there! Quickly, I turned to the girl. I needed confirmation that these people weren’t just a stronger hallucination.
“Hey kid,” I said, talking too fast to sound calm, “Do you see those two guys down the alley?”
“You mean the guys who has stuff all over him and that other guys who’s…” Suddenly, I realized that it might not have been a good idea to make a little girl look at a murder in progress.
“Oh my GOD,” she whispered in a rough voice, “That’s BLOOD. That guy is getting KILLED.” And with that, she took off, too fast for me to catch her, and so fast she dropped her cell phone.
The attacker looked at me, and although I couldn’t really see his face, I could see the insanity in his eyes, and I knew that that look would stay with me for a long time. The guy who he had been stabbing fell to the ground, and didn’t move. The attacker, who I was pretty sure was now officially deemed a killer, took a couple steps towards me.
As fast as I possibly could, I grabbed the girl’s cell phone and dialed 911.
Chapter Three
“Frickin’ lawyers,” I grumbled, slamming the door on my way out of the courthouse, so hard that the door shook in its brown and red brick frame.
“C’mon Mia,” my partner, Isaac Rodriguez, ambled out behind me, “personally I didn’t think that Attorney Agostinelli was that bad of a lawyer. She came off as pretty dedicated.”
“Yeah, except for the part where she seems utterly convinced that the Atlanta PD is out to get her schizophrenic, murdering client by killing his wife.” I was damn pissed. I’d been in the homicide division for two and a half months now, and I’d had to put up with rumors from my new subordinates, who didn’t quite trust me yet, criticism from my boss, who wasn’t sure that my transfer from the Special Victims Unit was right, and the jokes and pranks of my wiseass partner. It was 10:30 at night, I was tired and had had a very long day. This lawyer was just way too much.
“Mia,” Isaac said quietly, “Maybe you should take a vacation.”
“What,” I burst out, “Why the hell would you say that?”
“You’ve been working yourself to death and beyond lately,” he said, refusing to look me in the eye, “You’ve been working this serial killer case constantly while you’re at work, and God only knows how much you’re doing at home. On top of that you’re handling all the other duties of a police officer and the responsibilities of the captain of the homicide division as well. And you’ve been taking a lot of grief lately from the chief and the officers working under you. I’m just saying that you’ve been under a lot of stress lately, and maybe you should just back off for a while.”
I stared at him for a full ten seconds, my face showing nothing, saying nothing.
“No,” I said flatly, turning and walking towards the car, which was parked in a nearby parking lot close to the courthouse. The parking lot was crammed with cars, forcing me to weave between them in search of by powder blue Ford. I wasn’t worried about it getting dinged in the crush of cars in the lot; there wasn’t much more that could happen to that poor car that it hadn’t already been through. When I was about five feet from the car, my cell phone rang.
“Christ,” I grumbled, “What now?”
I checked the caller id. It was the Chief. Oh God, had the serial killer, the one who had just lately been stalking Atlanta at night, knocking off women, prostitutes, one at a time, hit again? Was I going to have to walk through the blood of yet another raped and tortured victim in search of clues that I knew he wouldn’t leave behind? I fumbled with my cell phone as Isaac caught up with me.
“What’s up?” he asked, catching the strained expression on my face.
“I’m not sure,” I couldn’t get my voice to be much louder than a whisper. I was filled with dread; this serial killer had been haunting my thoughts lately. I finally got my cell phone out and answered the call.
“Captain Mattone,” It was my boss, Chief of the Atlanta Police Department Thomas Bailey. He was a good cop, one who had many years both in the field and behind a desk, one who was well suited to command, but sometimes, he wasn’t quite sure what to do with me. Currently, his voice was heavy, the forbearer of bad news, “We have just received information about a homicide possibly related to the recent serial killings. Report now to the intersection of Acacia and Rosemont Drive. Caller is a possible witness.”
“Is the witness reliable sir?”
“Hardly,” Chief Bailey sighed, “He’s a habitual heroin addict with three previous drug related arrests by the name of Trevor Jones. If you can get anything substantial out of him, I’ll die a happy man.”
I sighed. This day was just going down the toilet.
“Understood sir. We’ll be right there.”
“A forensic team will be standing by just in case it really is related to the previous killings.” And with that, he hung up. Respected cop though he may be, talkative he ain’t.
Isaac was watching me apprehensively.
“Let’s go,” I said, getting into the car, and slamming the door shut. “That bastard killer might have gotten someone else.”
I pulled up to the curb of Acacia Drive, and parallel parked. Isaac looked at me.
“So who’s the witness we’re looking for again?”
“Guy named Trevor Jones. User. Drinker. He probably hallucinated the whole thing.” I hoped. I really didn’t want this tip to turn out to be another victim of the serial killer, because that would mean that I’d failed in stopping him from killing someone else. Again.
“Gee, maybe I should stock up on my crack supply for when I have every female cop in Atlanta over for a party,” Isaac can make jokes at the strangest of times.
“You are completely nuts,” I snapped.
“Hey, just looking forwards to getting naked. That would be one hell of a party,” Isaac said, a loopy grin on his face. He was a good cop, and a solid partner who you could trust, but occasionally, I just wanted to sock him.
“Just keep you mind on track, and maybe this will turn out to be a false alarm.”
“Cheer up Mia,” Isaac said lightly, “You’re on the hunt, and sooner or later you’re going to track him down.”
“Yeah, but when? And after how many more die?” I asked, too softly for Isaac to hear me.
“Hey, look, I think there’s our man,” said Isaac, pointing to a nervous, twitchy looking figure standing by the corner of one of those ubiquitous office buildings that you see everywhere and forget about as soon as you pass them.
I walked over. “Trevor Jones?” I asked.
“What,” He snapped. Definitely high. Or drunk. Or both. “What do you want?”
“I’m Captain Mia Mattone, with the Atlanta PD, and this is my partner, Sergeant Isaac Rodriguez. Did you call 911 to report a homicide?” His antsy demeanor was either the result of a drug withdrawal, or he really had seen a murder.
“Yes…I was the one who called 911. I saw it, I saw a murder!” He said anxiously while spinning in rapid circles, looking about, as if for an escape route from what he had seen. Somehow, despite all I had heard about him from the Chief, I believed him. There was no drug that can bring to the eyes the glaze that results from when the mind tries to hide itself from the horrors it has seen. None. He was clearly terrified, and yet, was somehow trying to fulfill his civic duty by calling the cops.
“Calm down sir,” I said gently, attempting to speak slowly and clearly, while inside, I just wanted to scream. The fact that he was so badly shaken all but confirmed my worst fear of another serial victim. “Please tell me what you saw, with as much detail as you remember. I need to know everything.”
“Yes, yes,” he all but sobbed, his whole body wildly shaking, “I saw, I saw,” At first I thought he wouldn’t be able to get complete and coherent sentences out as the repeated drug use had left he not entirely connected to begin with, and with the mad scene he had witnessed on top of that, he was almost incomprehensible. But he managed.
“I saw a guy get murdered! Over there, in that alley,” he gasped. I definitely believed him know, given the ripe stench of fresh blood spilling over to us. “I was making a,” a pause, then, “transaction, when I saw some guy attacking another one, with a knife. I saw him get stabbed, and I saw him fall. My, client, yelled, and the attacker looked like he was going to go for me too, but I called the police on my cell phone, and, I don’t know, he must have saw me do it, or something, cause he took off right after that. Oh God,” he was really falling to pieces now, and I didn’t know quite how to console him. I never have. How does one ever deal with the survivor, of whatever kind of grief has touched his life, “I called the police, but I still keep seeing that knife go into him, and coming out all bloody. Rip, rip, rip. I keep seeing it, I keep seeing it.”
“Did you see what he looked like,” I said, bending closer to him, making him look me in the face, just to make sure that he really wasn’t going to completely disintegrate on me.
“No,” he said, in such a tone of voice that I instantly believed him, “I wish like hell that I had, cause nobody, no matter what they did or who they were in life, deserves to die like that man did. I wish that I had seen the killer’s face, cause then maybe you guys could do something to make this better.”
He sat down on the concrete sidewalk and hugged his knees, breathing extremely fast, trying to gain control of himself. Isaac pulled me over to the side, out of Trevor’s hearing distance.
“He saw a guy get murdered,” he asked, somewhat incredulously.
“Apparently so,” I replied, just as incredulous as him, so as not to disturb Trevor anymore that he already was, “And before you say it, I know already. Our serial killer has always attacked, raped, tortured and mutilated women, specifically prostitutes. This might not be our killer, but if it is, why is he all of a sudden changing the pace?”
“One way to know for certain,” he stated quietly, “Our guy’s been pretty distinctive in the past. If we see the body, it should be obvious fairly quickly whether it’s him or not.”
“I know,” I whispered. I could see Isaac watching me closely, and I all of a sudden remembered what he had said earlier about me being under a lot of stress. I couldn’t take that kind of sympathy from him, so I whipped around to face Trevor again.
“Mr. Jones,” I began, “We need to view the body. I would like you to stay here, in case we need to talk to you later for further information. If you would like, I could call another police officer to stay with you.”
He gave a dry laugh, “Sorry lady, but I’m not sober enough to be fair company to a cop.”
“Nevertheless,” I said, “I would like you to stay here. Regardless of what has happened to you, I would like you to remember that if you decide for whatever reason to leave, not only will we track you down, but it will be regarded as reasonable certainty for any judge to justify your arrest, seeing as how it is involved in a homicide.”
“Alright, alright already,” he grumbled, “I get the picture. I’m staying right here.”
“Good,” Isaac snapped back at him, “I would hate to see our most valuable witness to all of a sudden disappear. I shot him a look. Isaac has a long history of despising drug dealers, specifically the ones that cater to children, but the last thing we needed right now was for Trevor to get angry, angry enough to forget important ideas. In response to my scathing look, Isaac shrugged and attempted for an innocent look. He knows I know about his hatred for drugs and their users, and he’s never tried to hide it.
Finally, I turned away from both men, and walked down the alley at a slow pace, trying to absorb as much information and possible pertinent details as I could. Near the end of the alley was a mess. I suppose it could have once been human, but suffice to say, it did not look like one now.
“Dear God,” I whispered, while next to me, Isaac clutched his stomach, trying to hold on to his dinner. We were both seasoned cops, used to sights of blood and gore, but once in a while, we saw one that went above and beyond what we had formerly thought was the threshold for human violence to another of the species. What was left at the end of the alley even went beyond the sheer horror of the other bodies left by the serial killer.
And this body could have come from no other person than the exact serial killer who had been haunting both Atlanta and my thoughts of late, for reasons that would be perfectly clear to anyone who had viewed even a few of his victims.
Chapter 4
“Calm down Amber.” I said out loud over and over, trying to get over what I saw, what that freaky druggie made me see. It was a dare; it was just a stupid dare. All I want to do is fit in at my new school. Get the drugs; simple as that, but nooo I see a murder. I stuck my head into the water and closed my eyes. The water felt nice, cool and refreshing around my head, but I can’t breathe underwater and the water fills my nose. I jerk my head up and start coughing and whip my, now wet, hair back in a ponytail. The normally bright, shinning blonde hair was dirty, as if tainted by what I saw. My mom asked me why I came home so early, crying, I lied and said my boyfriend and I broke up. We did, last week. It was one of the reasons I joined the cheerleading squad, just to feel wanted and needed again. The girls were nice at first but, then the initiation started.
I look at the mirror, and at the girl looking back at me. The mascara made streaks down my face. I saw a lot of things since I moved here. I was no longer the goody goody 12 year old Amber, I was a bad ass woman. Now I saw a murder. Should I go to the cops? And tell them what? I was with a guy and I was buying pot and I looked over there and I saw a guy hurt and I ran home? That doesn’t look good at all. I doubt the girls would understand, and my parents thought I was at Molly’s house.
I saw the guy’s face, I mean it was dark but I know what he looks like…kind of. But I don’t want to get in trouble. Whatever, maybe it was just a drug deal gone bad. Well, I don’t know what happened and I don’t wanna. I just wanna wear a cute outfit and be popular. I know that sounds shallow, but in my old school I was constantly teased and then I moved. I walked out and plop on the couch and turndc on the tv. At first I don’t really watch it, I’m just trying to get that horrible movie outta my head. Then I saw the news, the face, he kinda looked like…I saw this guy get murdered. He had a wife and a daughter. He wasn’t a bad guy at all. I turned off the tv quickly and finish my mom’s left out wine and then I took a pill and went to bed. Maybe it was all a dream…or I would think it was.
Claire was always bitching about one thing or money, time together, the kid. I had to get out of there, or I would take it out on her and blow my perfect marriage. Perfect marriage, my ass. But it looks perfect from the outside, anyone looking in wouldn’t have a clue. I am in control of this relationship, of my life. I am. Not that bitch. Not my father. Me. I got in the car and started my hunt. Normally, I plan my attacks. But then I spotted him standing on the street corner, innocently, like he didn’t do all of that stuff. What is he doing there? No one thought that he could do all those horrible things to his own family; he was a pediatrician for goodness sakes! But he did.
Every single muscle in my body was tense from excitement. The darkness of my soul, the darkness he created, the soul he shared with me, was shining in this moment. Every single limb of my body wanted to feel his blood against my flesh. The fact that I had to wait excited me even more, the hunt for revenge this time. As if he, no It is really a human being, but to me It is prey. I am better. I am god to this puny little ant of a thing. Finally, It is alone; I step up and walk towards It.
“Hey, you got a light?” I ask, trying to hide my lust, my urge to see him bleed. He doesn’t recognize me from the timid little boy I was when he was around.
“Sure,” It, said slightly annoyed that It was being bothered, not aware that I knew was a horrible creature I was talking to. It threw the lighter at me. It THREW the lighter at me. I took it and then I made like I was going to start smoking. Filthy habit, never liked it myself, but the first form of contact is mandatory. Before It even knew what was happening I had the knife pointed at It’s chest, not touching it. I couldn’t believe that I was doing this. It was surreal…like something in a dream. A glorious glorious bloody dream.
“Come with me.” I said letting my voice be true to its nature. The thing that I used to call my father wasn’t sure if he should listen or laugh until he felt the cold sharpness of the steel was moving along his throat, so delicately it almost tickled, and a thin stream of blood ran down his throat. A thick reddish-brown beautiful liquid. I was doing that so as not to ruin my dad yet, he took his time with Mel and me and he deserves the same. It nodded and stuttered a bit. “I don’t have money….but…but.” God, this begging was boring! Not the kind I like or not the kind he should be doing. I shoved the knife harder into his throat, bust still not enough to kill him, just to make that wonderful thick reddish-brown stream thicker. He was pressed against the back of the fast food dumpster after we wrestled a bit and after he bit me and I broke his wrist. The smell of old rotting food filled both of our nostrils, but I wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t. I heard it crying about his wife and kid. The wife he beat and raped. The daughter he drove to suicide.
I started my revenge as I stabbed him, slowly taking my time and taking non fatal stabs just to see him squirm.
“Why are you doing this? I did…nothing…Why?” It panted out, while clinging on to his breath, fear of exhaling.
“Why?! You DARE ask me why?! Shut up DAD! Just…SHUT UP!” I paced back and forth, the blade waving around and with every hand movement, blood spattered all over the place.
“Dad? I’m..I’m not your father.” It said, almost confused.
“Hell ya you weren’t my father! You think being a father means beating your kids every day! Or how about Mel? Huh?” I said angrily, how my father could forget about Mel, my older sister who killed herself because of his abuse, just baffled me. My eyes turned ice cold.
“You shouldn‘t have hurt them.” I said coldly as, I took the blade and cut of his right pinky toe. “Not so funny when I do it, huh dad?” I say as I remember that thing laughing at a seven year old me writhing in pain as he cut off my toe for mouthing off to him. I looked at my dad...who just turned into someone a few years younger, thinner…hmm, guess It wasn’t my father. I played with what was left of my toy for a while…then I felt someone’s eyes on me. Creepy feeling. How long they were watching? What did they see?
Anyway, I don’t liked to be watched. Not while fucking, not when killing. But there were witnesses, at least two. One skittered away during my act. The other one stayed. Not looking away. What a perv. I like to do my deed alone, as I said before. My clean up wouldn’t hardly be as good than if I was alone and if I had the time to, and if this perv wasn’t staring at me. Guess I’ll kill him too. Then I can clean both of them up…do I have enough duck tape to cover them? But enough so that I can cover their dismembered parts? No, not enough so I am sure I don’t get caught. I looked back down at the guy I killed. It really did look a lot my sperm donor, the one who had enough guts to call himself my father. Probably why I made do all these things…because of my dad. Hell, I just killed a man. Hmm?
A brief moment of insanity had run through my mind, but was fortunately was quickly gone. I had business to attend to before I moved on to the perv. I started to approach him with my hand getting that tingling feeling at the thought of getting another blood bath. Then I saw the cell phone. A string of profanities ran through my mind as I hoped that maybe I could just pass as a witness…I didn’t get to clean up the guy, but hell it was only one time.
I ducked into the nearest bar, and ran into the bathroom. I shoved the bloody clothes in the toilet and then started to wash up. Face and nails. I changed clothes with one of the passed-out guys there. Lucky for me there always is a passed-out person around here. Okay, deep calm breath. Maybe, hopefully, they’ll think that I was just here passed-out. I walked back out into the bar, looks differently then when I first walked in there. I ruffled my hair a bit and walk up to the bartender, “I’ll have something to make the head ache go away.” I said with a slight charming smile.
“I have just the thing for that! A taxi ride home mister and a good night sleep.” The woman bartender said. She was not too bad looking, probably got hit on all the time around here and just didn’t want to deal with another horny drunk. No matter what the tip would be. That’s fine with me.
“You got it, just call ‘em for me sweet cheeks.” I said a bit overly cheery, with a wide smile on my face.
“Okay, just wait here.” She said as she walked to the phone, smiling over at me. And I smile back, she really just thinks I’m just a horny drunk that stumbled out of the bathroom after spending the night lying in my own fifth. Ha! Maybe I’m better that I thought.
She lead me outside and I got into the cab, gave him my address and once home, gave my wife a deep kiss and crawled into bed. What? It was a long night.
Chapter One
My husband and I got into another fight, this time he almost hit me but left before anything happened. When he came home he gave me a deep kiss and went to bed. I choose to ignore the fact that he was wearing someone else’s clothes and reeked of beer, and something else. I know deep down that it was blood, but not my baby. He wouldn’t hurt anyone…not unless he was provoked. He never hurt Savannah or Adam, our twins, or me…never physically at least. I’m sure he means bitch and all those other names in the most affectionately way possible. I don’t take it personally, except when Adam copies his behavior. We are trying, we really are. He only acts this way because of how he grew up.
I look over at him, sleeping. He looks so sweet, almost angelic. He was at one time. Not anymore though. I mean its fine, our marriage, our life its fine. It looks my light woke him up.
“Claire, get your fat ass to bed and stop writing in that damn journal.” He mumbled as he rolled over. “Better yet, get started on breakfast.” It’s three in the morning, but guess I won’t be sleeping tonight.
I start to make breakfast and yawn, but it had to get done. Homemade pancakes and orange juice sounds good. I turn on the mini tv in the kitchen and look at the screen as the pancakes start to form. Another murder, this time a male, behind that bar my baby took me when we started to go out. A picture of the victim flashed on the screen and my jaw almost dropped. That man looks like my Christopher father-in-law, I change the channel. I don’t want to even think about murder right now…or ever. I stop thinking about anything except pancakes. They have to be perfect.
I wonder what he does when he leaves…do I really want to know?
No. I don’t.
Chapter Two
You know what? I think having a purple sky would be awesome. No really. The sky’s been blue for what, a million years? A billion years? Something like that. Anyway, I think its time for a change. Those boys at NASA, or wherever it is that they keep the aliens that are secretly running the government, should come up with some kind of spray to turn the sky purple. Or maybe orange would be better. They could make it just like the spray that causes the people who have stumbled on the mutants behind Area 51 to forget what happened to them.
What the? Why is a strange girl staring at me? It’s not like I’m out of it or anything. Oh wait, I am, I injected heroin just a little while ago. Or maybe it was a couple hours ago. Who’s counting anyways?
Where was I? Oh yeah, the girl. Who is she again? Now I remember! She’s a costumer. She wants to be hit up with some of my goods, man. Oh wait, does she? I think she does. Not that it matters to me, but I will get money out of it. Not that money is really important in this life. It would be awesome if we could just abolish the monetary rules and live in a free society. Those hippies had it right. I sound pretty smart, don’t I? Well that’s because I went to college. Had some pretty good times too, but I dropped out. Oh well. Oh yeah, the girl!
“Um, you are the dealer, aren’t you?” she asked tentatively, like she wasn’t sure if she wanted me to be or not.
“Sure, sure,” I said lazily, “I’m a dealer. But not the dealer. Isn’t that like, blasphemy, or something. I’m pretty sure that the dealer is another name for God. But never mind that, you wanted some goods?”
“Uh, yeah,” she said, looking pretty scared by my demeanor. Huh. Maybe she’s never seen someone like me before. Come to think of it, people always said that my philosophies were, um, unique.
“Okay, alright, here we go,” I mumbled, the wonderful injection from earlier making it hard to speak right. I love the hallucinations that my little friends bring. Yesterday, I saw a walking piece of man shaped bubble gum. It was chewed and everything. The hallucinations can also be really creative, like for instance, there’s two men in that nearby alley, and one of them looks like he’s stabbing the other. Huh, isn’t that a weird hallucination.
Hold on.
I double checked, but it was still there, not even wavering like most of my hallucinations did. I sucked in my cheeks. A guy was getting murdered, right there! Quickly, I turned to the girl. I needed confirmation that these people weren’t just a stronger hallucination.
“Hey kid,” I said, talking too fast to sound calm, “Do you see those two guys down the alley?”
“You mean the guys who has stuff all over him and that other guys who’s…” Suddenly, I realized that it might not have been a good idea to make a little girl look at a murder in progress.
“Oh my GOD,” she whispered in a rough voice, “That’s BLOOD. That guy is getting KILLED.” And with that, she took off, too fast for me to catch her, and so fast she dropped her cell phone.
The attacker looked at me, and although I couldn’t really see his face, I could see the insanity in his eyes, and I knew that that look would stay with me for a long time. The guy who he had been stabbing fell to the ground, and didn’t move. The attacker, who I was pretty sure was now officially deemed a killer, took a couple steps towards me.
As fast as I possibly could, I grabbed the girl’s cell phone and dialed 911.
Chapter Three
“Frickin’ lawyers,” I grumbled, slamming the door on my way out of the courthouse, so hard that the door shook in its brown and red brick frame.
“C’mon Mia,” my partner, Isaac Rodriguez, ambled out behind me, “personally I didn’t think that Attorney Agostinelli was that bad of a lawyer. She came off as pretty dedicated.”
“Yeah, except for the part where she seems utterly convinced that the Atlanta PD is out to get her schizophrenic, murdering client by killing his wife.” I was damn pissed. I’d been in the homicide division for two and a half months now, and I’d had to put up with rumors from my new subordinates, who didn’t quite trust me yet, criticism from my boss, who wasn’t sure that my transfer from the Special Victims Unit was right, and the jokes and pranks of my wiseass partner. It was 10:30 at night, I was tired and had had a very long day. This lawyer was just way too much.
“Mia,” Isaac said quietly, “Maybe you should take a vacation.”
“What,” I burst out, “Why the hell would you say that?”
“You’ve been working yourself to death and beyond lately,” he said, refusing to look me in the eye, “You’ve been working this serial killer case constantly while you’re at work, and God only knows how much you’re doing at home. On top of that you’re handling all the other duties of a police officer and the responsibilities of the captain of the homicide division as well. And you’ve been taking a lot of grief lately from the chief and the officers working under you. I’m just saying that you’ve been under a lot of stress lately, and maybe you should just back off for a while.”
I stared at him for a full ten seconds, my face showing nothing, saying nothing.
“No,” I said flatly, turning and walking towards the car, which was parked in a nearby parking lot close to the courthouse. The parking lot was crammed with cars, forcing me to weave between them in search of by powder blue Ford. I wasn’t worried about it getting dinged in the crush of cars in the lot; there wasn’t much more that could happen to that poor car that it hadn’t already been through. When I was about five feet from the car, my cell phone rang.
“Christ,” I grumbled, “What now?”
I checked the caller id. It was the Chief. Oh God, had the serial killer, the one who had just lately been stalking Atlanta at night, knocking off women, prostitutes, one at a time, hit again? Was I going to have to walk through the blood of yet another raped and tortured victim in search of clues that I knew he wouldn’t leave behind? I fumbled with my cell phone as Isaac caught up with me.
“What’s up?” he asked, catching the strained expression on my face.
“I’m not sure,” I couldn’t get my voice to be much louder than a whisper. I was filled with dread; this serial killer had been haunting my thoughts lately. I finally got my cell phone out and answered the call.
“Captain Mattone,” It was my boss, Chief of the Atlanta Police Department Thomas Bailey. He was a good cop, one who had many years both in the field and behind a desk, one who was well suited to command, but sometimes, he wasn’t quite sure what to do with me. Currently, his voice was heavy, the forbearer of bad news, “We have just received information about a homicide possibly related to the recent serial killings. Report now to the intersection of Acacia and Rosemont Drive. Caller is a possible witness.”
“Is the witness reliable sir?”
“Hardly,” Chief Bailey sighed, “He’s a habitual heroin addict with three previous drug related arrests by the name of Trevor Jones. If you can get anything substantial out of him, I’ll die a happy man.”
I sighed. This day was just going down the toilet.
“Understood sir. We’ll be right there.”
“A forensic team will be standing by just in case it really is related to the previous killings.” And with that, he hung up. Respected cop though he may be, talkative he ain’t.
Isaac was watching me apprehensively.
“Let’s go,” I said, getting into the car, and slamming the door shut. “That bastard killer might have gotten someone else.”
I pulled up to the curb of Acacia Drive, and parallel parked. Isaac looked at me.
“So who’s the witness we’re looking for again?”
“Guy named Trevor Jones. User. Drinker. He probably hallucinated the whole thing.” I hoped. I really didn’t want this tip to turn out to be another victim of the serial killer, because that would mean that I’d failed in stopping him from killing someone else. Again.
“Gee, maybe I should stock up on my crack supply for when I have every female cop in Atlanta over for a party,” Isaac can make jokes at the strangest of times.
“You are completely nuts,” I snapped.
“Hey, just looking forwards to getting naked. That would be one hell of a party,” Isaac said, a loopy grin on his face. He was a good cop, and a solid partner who you could trust, but occasionally, I just wanted to sock him.
“Just keep you mind on track, and maybe this will turn out to be a false alarm.”
“Cheer up Mia,” Isaac said lightly, “You’re on the hunt, and sooner or later you’re going to track him down.”
“Yeah, but when? And after how many more die?” I asked, too softly for Isaac to hear me.
“Hey, look, I think there’s our man,” said Isaac, pointing to a nervous, twitchy looking figure standing by the corner of one of those ubiquitous office buildings that you see everywhere and forget about as soon as you pass them.
I walked over. “Trevor Jones?” I asked.
“What,” He snapped. Definitely high. Or drunk. Or both. “What do you want?”
“I’m Captain Mia Mattone, with the Atlanta PD, and this is my partner, Sergeant Isaac Rodriguez. Did you call 911 to report a homicide?” His antsy demeanor was either the result of a drug withdrawal, or he really had seen a murder.
“Yes…I was the one who called 911. I saw it, I saw a murder!” He said anxiously while spinning in rapid circles, looking about, as if for an escape route from what he had seen. Somehow, despite all I had heard about him from the Chief, I believed him. There was no drug that can bring to the eyes the glaze that results from when the mind tries to hide itself from the horrors it has seen. None. He was clearly terrified, and yet, was somehow trying to fulfill his civic duty by calling the cops.
“Calm down sir,” I said gently, attempting to speak slowly and clearly, while inside, I just wanted to scream. The fact that he was so badly shaken all but confirmed my worst fear of another serial victim. “Please tell me what you saw, with as much detail as you remember. I need to know everything.”
“Yes, yes,” he all but sobbed, his whole body wildly shaking, “I saw, I saw,” At first I thought he wouldn’t be able to get complete and coherent sentences out as the repeated drug use had left he not entirely connected to begin with, and with the mad scene he had witnessed on top of that, he was almost incomprehensible. But he managed.
“I saw a guy get murdered! Over there, in that alley,” he gasped. I definitely believed him know, given the ripe stench of fresh blood spilling over to us. “I was making a,” a pause, then, “transaction, when I saw some guy attacking another one, with a knife. I saw him get stabbed, and I saw him fall. My, client, yelled, and the attacker looked like he was going to go for me too, but I called the police on my cell phone, and, I don’t know, he must have saw me do it, or something, cause he took off right after that. Oh God,” he was really falling to pieces now, and I didn’t know quite how to console him. I never have. How does one ever deal with the survivor, of whatever kind of grief has touched his life, “I called the police, but I still keep seeing that knife go into him, and coming out all bloody. Rip, rip, rip. I keep seeing it, I keep seeing it.”
“Did you see what he looked like,” I said, bending closer to him, making him look me in the face, just to make sure that he really wasn’t going to completely disintegrate on me.
“No,” he said, in such a tone of voice that I instantly believed him, “I wish like hell that I had, cause nobody, no matter what they did or who they were in life, deserves to die like that man did. I wish that I had seen the killer’s face, cause then maybe you guys could do something to make this better.”
He sat down on the concrete sidewalk and hugged his knees, breathing extremely fast, trying to gain control of himself. Isaac pulled me over to the side, out of Trevor’s hearing distance.
“He saw a guy get murdered,” he asked, somewhat incredulously.
“Apparently so,” I replied, just as incredulous as him, so as not to disturb Trevor anymore that he already was, “And before you say it, I know already. Our serial killer has always attacked, raped, tortured and mutilated women, specifically prostitutes. This might not be our killer, but if it is, why is he all of a sudden changing the pace?”
“One way to know for certain,” he stated quietly, “Our guy’s been pretty distinctive in the past. If we see the body, it should be obvious fairly quickly whether it’s him or not.”
“I know,” I whispered. I could see Isaac watching me closely, and I all of a sudden remembered what he had said earlier about me being under a lot of stress. I couldn’t take that kind of sympathy from him, so I whipped around to face Trevor again.
“Mr. Jones,” I began, “We need to view the body. I would like you to stay here, in case we need to talk to you later for further information. If you would like, I could call another police officer to stay with you.”
He gave a dry laugh, “Sorry lady, but I’m not sober enough to be fair company to a cop.”
“Nevertheless,” I said, “I would like you to stay here. Regardless of what has happened to you, I would like you to remember that if you decide for whatever reason to leave, not only will we track you down, but it will be regarded as reasonable certainty for any judge to justify your arrest, seeing as how it is involved in a homicide.”
“Alright, alright already,” he grumbled, “I get the picture. I’m staying right here.”
“Good,” Isaac snapped back at him, “I would hate to see our most valuable witness to all of a sudden disappear. I shot him a look. Isaac has a long history of despising drug dealers, specifically the ones that cater to children, but the last thing we needed right now was for Trevor to get angry, angry enough to forget important ideas. In response to my scathing look, Isaac shrugged and attempted for an innocent look. He knows I know about his hatred for drugs and their users, and he’s never tried to hide it.
Finally, I turned away from both men, and walked down the alley at a slow pace, trying to absorb as much information and possible pertinent details as I could. Near the end of the alley was a mess. I suppose it could have once been human, but suffice to say, it did not look like one now.
“Dear God,” I whispered, while next to me, Isaac clutched his stomach, trying to hold on to his dinner. We were both seasoned cops, used to sights of blood and gore, but once in a while, we saw one that went above and beyond what we had formerly thought was the threshold for human violence to another of the species. What was left at the end of the alley even went beyond the sheer horror of the other bodies left by the serial killer.
And this body could have come from no other person than the exact serial killer who had been haunting both Atlanta and my thoughts of late, for reasons that would be perfectly clear to anyone who had viewed even a few of his victims.
Chapter 4
“Calm down Amber.” I said out loud over and over, trying to get over what I saw, what that freaky druggie made me see. It was a dare; it was just a stupid dare. All I want to do is fit in at my new school. Get the drugs; simple as that, but nooo I see a murder. I stuck my head into the water and closed my eyes. The water felt nice, cool and refreshing around my head, but I can’t breathe underwater and the water fills my nose. I jerk my head up and start coughing and whip my, now wet, hair back in a ponytail. The normally bright, shinning blonde hair was dirty, as if tainted by what I saw. My mom asked me why I came home so early, crying, I lied and said my boyfriend and I broke up. We did, last week. It was one of the reasons I joined the cheerleading squad, just to feel wanted and needed again. The girls were nice at first but, then the initiation started.
I look at the mirror, and at the girl looking back at me. The mascara made streaks down my face. I saw a lot of things since I moved here. I was no longer the goody goody 12 year old Amber, I was a bad ass woman. Now I saw a murder. Should I go to the cops? And tell them what? I was with a guy and I was buying pot and I looked over there and I saw a guy hurt and I ran home? That doesn’t look good at all. I doubt the girls would understand, and my parents thought I was at Molly’s house.
I saw the guy’s face, I mean it was dark but I know what he looks like…kind of. But I don’t want to get in trouble. Whatever, maybe it was just a drug deal gone bad. Well, I don’t know what happened and I don’t wanna. I just wanna wear a cute outfit and be popular. I know that sounds shallow, but in my old school I was constantly teased and then I moved. I walked out and plop on the couch and turndc on the tv. At first I don’t really watch it, I’m just trying to get that horrible movie outta my head. Then I saw the news, the face, he kinda looked like…I saw this guy get murdered. He had a wife and a daughter. He wasn’t a bad guy at all. I turned off the tv quickly and finish my mom’s left out wine and then I took a pill and went to bed. Maybe it was all a dream…or I would think it was.