“Did anyone touch the body?” Detective Christopher Bailey set foot onto the front lawn of Sarah Markus’ home. The grass obviously needed trimming, the trees obviously needed pruning. Shingles on the front of the house were in desperate need of paint. Detective Bailey counted no less then twenty cracks in the sidewalk as he made his way carefully to the front door.
“The officers claim no one has touched the scene. The ME is on his way. We’re waiting for you.” Isabelle’s heels clicked along the same pavement Bailey walked. Her black hair was pulled back in a pony tail as it always was. Somehow it managed to shine in the sun. Bailey couldn’t figure that out. What did women do to their hair anyway?
“Do you believe them?”
“I do, Bailey. Why do you always ask that?”
“Because if I don’t then I won’t know for sure if it’s true. And you never know when they’ve pulled a rookie cop to rope off my crime scene.” Bailey waved his arm around the neighborhood. “You see that? We already have a crowd and my tape isn’t back far enough.”
Isabelle rolled her eyes. “The tape is never far enough back for you. If you had it your way you’d rope off the entire neighborhood.”
“Keep away the onlookers.” Bailey flashed his badge to the officer guarding the door of the Markus home. Guarding wasn’t the right word. The man was just standing there glancing at badges. Bailey would bet the Easter Bunny could walk by this man unnoticed. But it didn’t matter. There was a second officer standing outside the perimeter tape keeping a record of everyone who entered and exited the crime scene. This officer was just a second measure. Suspects were often known to return to the scene of their crimes and who’s to say that one of them didn’t try to slip in through the front door. Bailey was a man of complete order. That and covering his ample backside. No defense attorney was going to be able to question his police work. Especially not on this case. If there was any chance that Solomon had struck again Bailey wasn’t going to leave one stone unturned, one hair out of place, one shred of doubt in a jury’s mind that they had their man. And they would have their man.
But when was the question.
Bailey slipped on a pair of paper booties over his black dress shoes and stepped through the doorway of the home. The inside was more kept then the outside with maple wood floors and area rugs everywhere. Like many homes in Northern Virginia there was a living room on Bailey’s left and a dining room on his right, each room contained its own area rug as did the hallway he was standing in. A carpeted stairway led upward in front of him. A second hallway led away from the foyer on his left and a third hallway was on his right. Bailey assumed one led to the kitchen and the other to a home office or small bathroom. Architecture in this area didn’t vary by much.
“Where was she found?” Bailey asked a small, balding Asian man as he entered into the foyer of the home. The Asian man wore a black vest with yellow stripes. When he turned Bailey could read the yellow words on the back, “Crime Scene Investigation”.
“She was found upstairs in the master bedroom same as the others.”
“Were you at any of the other crime scenes, CSI…?” Bailey did not know the man’s name so he couldn’t have been at a previous crime scene. Bailey would not forget a thing like that.
“CSI Phong, sir and no, I was not at the other scenes. I was transferred here a month ago.” The man’s heavy accent laced his words but Phong spoke perfect English and Bailey had found no immediate reason not to trust him.
“After you then.” Bailey motioned for Phong to lead them up the stairs and Phong scurried to obey.
“No one has touched anything since the medical examiner has yet to arrive, sir. This is just as we found her.”
“Who found her?” Bailey said as his feet hit the plush carpet that defined the master bedroom. The homeowners must have upgraded from the standard hallway carpet to the more padded master bedroom.
“I don’t know.” Beads of sweat formed on Phong’s brow. Bailey looked down on the small man who nervously pushed his eyeglasses closer to his face.
“Then how did we know there was a body in here to be found?”
“We got an anonymous call saying we could find the body here.” It was not Phong speaking. Bailey looked across the bedroom until his eyes landed on Captain Jackson Scranton. “Officers responded to the call and receiving no answer they entered the home.”
“They entered the home? Without a warrant?”
“It was possible that the woman was still alive and in need of rescue.” Jackson stared down Bailey almost daring him to answer.
Bailey was not intimidated. “No, it wasn’t. He makes sure his victims are dead before he leaves. There is no room for doubt. He called it in. He wanted us to find her. If your men messed with anything Captain…” Detective Bailey looked at the young woman laying on the bed. Her body was contorted while her eyes stared at the ceiling. They were open. He would not have shut them. Her arm hung over the side of the bed, blood stained her forearm and her hand. A pool of blood stained the otherwise perfect carpet. Sarah Markus was fully clothed but Bailey knew she had been redressed. Her killer took everything from her. Physically, emotionally, sexually. He left nothing out.
“My officers didn’t know that at the time. They entered the premises and as they were clearing the premises they came upon this. They called it in immediately, they touched nothing. They called me, I called you.” Jackson turned his steel blue eyes from Bailey to the corpse. “You think it’s him?”
“I just got here. I haven’t examined the body…”
“But do you think it’s him?”
“Probably.” Bailey stepped closer to the body watching his step as he went. Every inch of this room was potential evidence and Bailey was not about to ruin it. Bailey pulled latex gloves out of his back pocket and pointed towards the girl’s neck. “Here. The incision is deep but not deep enough to kill. Same pool of blood next to the body. I’d bet she bled out just like the others.” Bailey leaned in closer. Something glinted in the light. Small traces on the girl’s lips reflected the sun coming in through the master bedroom window from the other side of the room. Some sort of film.
Bailey stood and looked at Isabelle, “There’s film on her lips, same as the others.”
“What does that mean?” Jackson couldn’t help but insert himself in the investigation. The man was here for one reason only, the media, the publicity. News reporters were already camped on the front lawn. Darn journalists and their police scanners. But Bailey was sure Jackson didn’t mind. If Jackson could be commended for solving this case he could easily be selected to run for public office.
“We’re not sure. We’ve found it on the last three girls. The techs have identified it as wax paper but we don’t know what it means. Clearly he isn’t suffocating them.” Isabelle answered Jackson’s question.
“What about DNA?” Jackson asked.
Bailey stood and looked at Jackson again. “This isn’t like TV, Jackson, there was no DNA on the wax paper left behind on two of the victims that did not belong to the victim herself. On the third there was so little that the only information we could gather was that our perp is male but guess what? We already knew that.”
“Fine, I get it. What else do you know?”
Bailey glanced at Isabelle. He didn’t have time to brief another officer, even if he was a Captain, on an ongoing investigation. At this rate his superiors were considering bringing in the FBI. Bailey was working hard to keep them out of it. This didn’t need to go federal.
“Sir, why don’t we step outside and I’ll fill you in. Let’s give Detective Bailey some space to work.” Isabelle motioned for the door silently requesting the Captain to follow. Jackson followed Isabelle into the hallway. Despite his need for attention, Bailey was certain Captain Scranton wanted these murders solved as much as anyone else. No one in law enforcement wanted a serial killer on their doorstep.
Bailey turned his attention back to Sarah’s body. He had just moments before the medical examiner arrived. A few moments with Sarah before she was poked, prodded, examined and then carted away to a cold hole in a wall. It wasn’t the place for a beautiful girl to end up.
“How many more are you going to take Solomon?” The answer scared Bailey to his core. An avid believer he knew the Old Testament he knew who Solomon was. He knew how many wives and concubines the Biblical Solomon had. At the rate this Solomon, or the Beltway Killer as the media had dubbed him, was going he may very well catch up.
Bailey could not touch the body but he could search the scenes before he called the technicians into process it. Bailey scanned the room, nothing caught his eye. It had never been in the same place twice but it was never in plain view. Bailey squatted down next to the bed to scan the floor.
“Did you find it yet?” Bailey recognized Isabelle’s voice.
“No. Maybe when the ME gets here and he moves the body.”
“He’s here, are you ready for him to examine the body?”
“I need some photos of the Sarah and then he can roll her. The note could be under the body.” Bailey stood and looked down at Sarah. Why her? After three other victims they had yet to come up with a connection between them. Each one looked different, lived differently, two were married, two were not, only one had kids. What did he see?
“I found it.”
Bailey followed Isabelle’s voice to the master bedroom window. With a finger she pulled the curtain back. A piece of paper stuck to the window. From where he stood Bailey couldn’t read it but there was no mistaking Solomon’s blood red signature on the bottom of his note. “What does it say?”
“It’s another verse. Says it’s from Proverbs 12:4. ‘An excellent wife is the crown of her husband, but she who brings shame is like rottenness in his bones’….” Isabelle’s voice trailed off at the end of the verse.
“Anything else?”
“This time he added something…”
“Well, what is it?”
“He’s added, ‘This one’s for you Detective Bailey.’”
Friday, January 16, 2009
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Repay No Evil Chapter 1
****Author's note - I've decided to change some things in this novel so what was true in the first one may not be in this one. Partly because I want Ashley's character to be a deeper character. I haven't decided yet whether or not this would become the first novel in the series or whether the previous one would. If it is this one then Nate and Ashley's relationship would start completely over. Just warning so no one is confused. Take this one as though the other one hadn't been written :) If you haven't read that one this will be easy!****
Ashley’s feet hit the pavement. One foot in front of the other. One more time around the neighborhood. Her legs were burning, the air was beginning to sting her lungs but she pushed harder. There was no one running against her. No one chasing her, at least not now, but still she ran. Her ponytail swished against her neck while sweat dripped down the side of her face. She wiped it away with the back of her hand. Music drummed in her ears through her IPod.
As she turned the corner onto her street, her house came into view. She should stop. Ashley had lost track of how long she’d been running but it didn’t matter. It could never be long enough.
“Ashley!” Even through her ear pieces she could hear her name. She stopped short and looked around. “Ashley!” With one hand Ashley pulled the headphones out of her ear.
Turning in a circle, Ashley searched the street but saw no one. Was it her imagination? Ashley stood still and waited.
“Ashley, over here!” Ashley followed the voice to her own driveway where her eyes finally landed on Ella Kingsbrook, her new good friend.
“What is it?” Ashley concentrated on slowing her breathing as she approached the front gate of her house.
“There’s been another murder.” Ella’s blue eyes were puffy and red. Black tear tracks ran down her face. Strands of wavy blonde hair fell in her face and she made no attempt to push them away. Something definitely was wrong.
“What? Where?” Ashley maintained eye contact with Ella while leaning forward to place her hands on her knees and catch her breath.
“I just heard it on the news. They found another girl. Another girl, Ashley. He’s killed again, I know it’s him.”
Ashley opened her front gate and made her way up the sidewalk to her front porch. She stopped short when she noticed two small kids sitting on her stairs. “Hi Drew, Paige.”
“Hi Miss Ashley.” Paige smiled at Ashley but Drew looked away. After six months of friendship with Ella, Drew had yet to say a word to her.
“Are you babysitting again?” Ashley bit her lip to keep the irritation out of her voice. Ella was an interior designer not a babysitter.
“You know I want to. It’s for Amy.”
“What about Wes?”
“He’s a friend too.”
“He’s going off the deep end, Ell.”
“His wife was murdered not even a year ago, what would you have me do?”
Ashley turned back to Ella and held her hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to fight you. I just want to know if Wes knows how good he has it.”
Ella forced a smile, “He’d have it better if his wife hadn’t been murdered by a crazed killer and I’m telling you Ashley he’s killed again. This is the fourth girl in not even a year. What are the police doing?”
“Come on in, Ell, let’s talk about it while the kids play a game or watch a video.”
“Yea, yea, you’re right, I’m not thinking straight.” Finally Ella pushed the hair out of her face and wiped the tears with her fingers. “Come on Drew, Paige, lets get inside, Miss Ashley will let you watch a video.”
“Oh yea!” Paige jumped to her feet and ran up the remaining three stairs to the front porch. Drew slowly pushed himself up and followed his sister to the front door. Each time Ashley saw Drew she became more convinced that he had seen something. Whether he had seen his mother’s murderer was unclear and Ashley was having a hard time getting him to open up despite her best efforts.
When Drew and Paige were sitting on the couch watching Dora, Ashley poured Ella some iced tea and then poured herself some Gatorade to rehydrate her body. It was early June in Virginia, technically still spring, yet the temperature was already above 90. Ella and Ashley sat at Ashley’s round kitchen table. Ella had suggested the table for the morning room and Ashley had since enjoyed drinking her energy shakes and coffee at it and looking at the open land behind her house.
“It’s him, Ashley, I know it is.”
“You’ve said that. What makes you so sure?”
“I just heard they’ve found another body. It was another female in a suburban home. Her husband found her when he got home from his business trip.”
“But Ella, a lot of women die like that. It could have been anything.” Ashley took a sip of her Gatorade. She didn’t really like the taste of it but it was better for her then water after such a hard run.
“No, the police said they suspected foul play. One of the reporters asked if this could be the work of a serial killer. They asked if could be Solomon and I knew it was.”
“Did the police say it was?”
“No, they didn’t say anything. Didn’t say if there was a note or not.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t get too worked up over it. Maybe it’s unrelated. The press likes to make a story out of anything and they could have been blowing things out of proportion.”
Ella ran her hands over her hair to smooth it into place. Wavy strands still managed to escape despite her best efforts. Ella’s face was more red then usual and it made her freckles stand out all the more. Ella was a small girl, at least six inches shorter then Ashley but she was just as thin. She wore rings on most of her fingers except for her ring finger on her left hand. She was not married and did not want to give the wrong impression. Ella had been searching for Mr. Right for a long time. Ashley wanted to tell her not to bother. The pain of losing a loved one was greater then not having them to love in the first place. There were many days Ashley wished she had never fallen in love with Donnie.
“I know you think that makes sense but I just know. Amy’s killer has struck again. He’s not going to stop. Why won’t the police get the FBI involved?”
“The FBI has to be invited into a case. And all of these murders have happened in different jurisdictions. The police can be slow moving at times. If this had been a child the FBI would have been there from day one but these are grown women and they’ve had good suspects.”
Ella grunted, “Wes shouldn’t be a suspect.”
“But he makes sense, Ell. He’s close to the first victim and serial killers like to start close to home. And the police always question the spouse.” Ashley paused and waited for Ella to reply. Instead Ella just sat quietly avoiding eye contact. “What has you more worried that Amy’s killer has killed again or that Wes is the one behind them all?”
Ella looked up at Ashley, “I don’t know. I can’t imagine Wes doing anything like that. He’s such a sweet guy. He’s good with the kids.”
“But he gets frustrated. He works long hours; he isn’t always there for them. Just like he wasn’t there for Amy.”
“He’s coping the best way he knows how.” Ella once again looked away from Ashley. She looked like she was working up the nerve for something though Ashley had no idea what. They had been friends for six months. Ella was the first person to introduce herself to Ashley when Ashley moved into the neighborhood. Even though Ella didn’t actually live in the neighborhood she was around all the time to help Wes with the kids. After her best friend’s murder, Ella had been looking for some female companionship. Apparently she felt that Ashley fit the bill. Ashley had not been looking for friends of any sort yet Ella continued to make herself available. After a while Ashley stopped fighting the invitations and found herself enjoying her time with Ella. But today was different. Today there was a strain that she couldn’t put her finger on.
“What is it Ella?”
“What if you talked to Drew again? He didn’t open up before but maybe he will now.”
“If Wes asks me too I can. You’re not his legal guardian.”
“Can’t you just talk to him casual like. He’s here now, maybe he’ll say something.”
“Ell, you know I’d love to get him to talk to me but this isn’t the place. If the court appointed me to look into his case then I would. If his father asks me as a friend I would but I can’t just interrogate a six-year old boy. He’s been through something extremely traumatic. He was only five at the time of his mother’s murder. Even if he saw something he may not remember.”
“But you’re trained to talk to kids.”
“I am but it doesn’t work like that. I can’t make him talk if he doesn’t want to.” Ashley gripped her Gatorade tighter and hoped that Ella would drop the subject. She liked to keep her job as a Forensic Psychologist separate from her personal life. She had already talked to Drew about the murder shortly after meeting Wes and Ella but Drew had not opened up about anything and Ashley was not going to push the issue with him. The boy needed counseling and that wasn’t Ashley’s job. The bulk of her work was spent interviewing children who had been abused by their parents and children involved with custody cases after which she would inform the courts what the best course of action would be for the child’s well-being. Very occasionally she was called in to talk to a child witness in a major case. She had been cleared to work with the FBI but had yet to be called as a consultant.
Ella sipped her ice tea and nodded at Ashley. “I know you can’t make him. I just want him to talk so badly. I swear he saw the man that did it and it’s locked in his brain of his. I just wish it would come out.”
Ashley placed her hand over Ella’s wrist. It was the friendly thing to do after all even if the physical contact made her cringe. “If he did see something then in time it will come out. I can promise you that.”
Ella nodded. The strange look of hesitancy remained on her face. Ashley said nothing. If Ella wanted to ask something she would. Sometimes the best way to get information was to say nothing at all. Finally, Ella opened her mouth to speak, “Can I ask you one more thing?”
“Sure Ell, what is it?” Ashley swallowed another sip of Gatorade hoping her face didn’t show that she meant the opposite.
“Would you call Nate? Would you ask him to get involved?”
Ashley almost spit out her Gatorade. In a moment of weakness Ashley had shared about Nate Zimmerman. Now Ashley regretted that moment even more. But Ella was right. If Solomon had indeed struck again then the FBI would need to get involved. And then Nate would once again be involved in her life. Ashley was pretty sure that thought scared her more then a serial killer on the loose who liked to prey on women in their homes.
Ashley’s feet hit the pavement. One foot in front of the other. One more time around the neighborhood. Her legs were burning, the air was beginning to sting her lungs but she pushed harder. There was no one running against her. No one chasing her, at least not now, but still she ran. Her ponytail swished against her neck while sweat dripped down the side of her face. She wiped it away with the back of her hand. Music drummed in her ears through her IPod.
As she turned the corner onto her street, her house came into view. She should stop. Ashley had lost track of how long she’d been running but it didn’t matter. It could never be long enough.
“Ashley!” Even through her ear pieces she could hear her name. She stopped short and looked around. “Ashley!” With one hand Ashley pulled the headphones out of her ear.
Turning in a circle, Ashley searched the street but saw no one. Was it her imagination? Ashley stood still and waited.
“Ashley, over here!” Ashley followed the voice to her own driveway where her eyes finally landed on Ella Kingsbrook, her new good friend.
“What is it?” Ashley concentrated on slowing her breathing as she approached the front gate of her house.
“There’s been another murder.” Ella’s blue eyes were puffy and red. Black tear tracks ran down her face. Strands of wavy blonde hair fell in her face and she made no attempt to push them away. Something definitely was wrong.
“What? Where?” Ashley maintained eye contact with Ella while leaning forward to place her hands on her knees and catch her breath.
“I just heard it on the news. They found another girl. Another girl, Ashley. He’s killed again, I know it’s him.”
Ashley opened her front gate and made her way up the sidewalk to her front porch. She stopped short when she noticed two small kids sitting on her stairs. “Hi Drew, Paige.”
“Hi Miss Ashley.” Paige smiled at Ashley but Drew looked away. After six months of friendship with Ella, Drew had yet to say a word to her.
“Are you babysitting again?” Ashley bit her lip to keep the irritation out of her voice. Ella was an interior designer not a babysitter.
“You know I want to. It’s for Amy.”
“What about Wes?”
“He’s a friend too.”
“He’s going off the deep end, Ell.”
“His wife was murdered not even a year ago, what would you have me do?”
Ashley turned back to Ella and held her hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to fight you. I just want to know if Wes knows how good he has it.”
Ella forced a smile, “He’d have it better if his wife hadn’t been murdered by a crazed killer and I’m telling you Ashley he’s killed again. This is the fourth girl in not even a year. What are the police doing?”
“Come on in, Ell, let’s talk about it while the kids play a game or watch a video.”
“Yea, yea, you’re right, I’m not thinking straight.” Finally Ella pushed the hair out of her face and wiped the tears with her fingers. “Come on Drew, Paige, lets get inside, Miss Ashley will let you watch a video.”
“Oh yea!” Paige jumped to her feet and ran up the remaining three stairs to the front porch. Drew slowly pushed himself up and followed his sister to the front door. Each time Ashley saw Drew she became more convinced that he had seen something. Whether he had seen his mother’s murderer was unclear and Ashley was having a hard time getting him to open up despite her best efforts.
When Drew and Paige were sitting on the couch watching Dora, Ashley poured Ella some iced tea and then poured herself some Gatorade to rehydrate her body. It was early June in Virginia, technically still spring, yet the temperature was already above 90. Ella and Ashley sat at Ashley’s round kitchen table. Ella had suggested the table for the morning room and Ashley had since enjoyed drinking her energy shakes and coffee at it and looking at the open land behind her house.
“It’s him, Ashley, I know it is.”
“You’ve said that. What makes you so sure?”
“I just heard they’ve found another body. It was another female in a suburban home. Her husband found her when he got home from his business trip.”
“But Ella, a lot of women die like that. It could have been anything.” Ashley took a sip of her Gatorade. She didn’t really like the taste of it but it was better for her then water after such a hard run.
“No, the police said they suspected foul play. One of the reporters asked if this could be the work of a serial killer. They asked if could be Solomon and I knew it was.”
“Did the police say it was?”
“No, they didn’t say anything. Didn’t say if there was a note or not.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t get too worked up over it. Maybe it’s unrelated. The press likes to make a story out of anything and they could have been blowing things out of proportion.”
Ella ran her hands over her hair to smooth it into place. Wavy strands still managed to escape despite her best efforts. Ella’s face was more red then usual and it made her freckles stand out all the more. Ella was a small girl, at least six inches shorter then Ashley but she was just as thin. She wore rings on most of her fingers except for her ring finger on her left hand. She was not married and did not want to give the wrong impression. Ella had been searching for Mr. Right for a long time. Ashley wanted to tell her not to bother. The pain of losing a loved one was greater then not having them to love in the first place. There were many days Ashley wished she had never fallen in love with Donnie.
“I know you think that makes sense but I just know. Amy’s killer has struck again. He’s not going to stop. Why won’t the police get the FBI involved?”
“The FBI has to be invited into a case. And all of these murders have happened in different jurisdictions. The police can be slow moving at times. If this had been a child the FBI would have been there from day one but these are grown women and they’ve had good suspects.”
Ella grunted, “Wes shouldn’t be a suspect.”
“But he makes sense, Ell. He’s close to the first victim and serial killers like to start close to home. And the police always question the spouse.” Ashley paused and waited for Ella to reply. Instead Ella just sat quietly avoiding eye contact. “What has you more worried that Amy’s killer has killed again or that Wes is the one behind them all?”
Ella looked up at Ashley, “I don’t know. I can’t imagine Wes doing anything like that. He’s such a sweet guy. He’s good with the kids.”
“But he gets frustrated. He works long hours; he isn’t always there for them. Just like he wasn’t there for Amy.”
“He’s coping the best way he knows how.” Ella once again looked away from Ashley. She looked like she was working up the nerve for something though Ashley had no idea what. They had been friends for six months. Ella was the first person to introduce herself to Ashley when Ashley moved into the neighborhood. Even though Ella didn’t actually live in the neighborhood she was around all the time to help Wes with the kids. After her best friend’s murder, Ella had been looking for some female companionship. Apparently she felt that Ashley fit the bill. Ashley had not been looking for friends of any sort yet Ella continued to make herself available. After a while Ashley stopped fighting the invitations and found herself enjoying her time with Ella. But today was different. Today there was a strain that she couldn’t put her finger on.
“What is it Ella?”
“What if you talked to Drew again? He didn’t open up before but maybe he will now.”
“If Wes asks me too I can. You’re not his legal guardian.”
“Can’t you just talk to him casual like. He’s here now, maybe he’ll say something.”
“Ell, you know I’d love to get him to talk to me but this isn’t the place. If the court appointed me to look into his case then I would. If his father asks me as a friend I would but I can’t just interrogate a six-year old boy. He’s been through something extremely traumatic. He was only five at the time of his mother’s murder. Even if he saw something he may not remember.”
“But you’re trained to talk to kids.”
“I am but it doesn’t work like that. I can’t make him talk if he doesn’t want to.” Ashley gripped her Gatorade tighter and hoped that Ella would drop the subject. She liked to keep her job as a Forensic Psychologist separate from her personal life. She had already talked to Drew about the murder shortly after meeting Wes and Ella but Drew had not opened up about anything and Ashley was not going to push the issue with him. The boy needed counseling and that wasn’t Ashley’s job. The bulk of her work was spent interviewing children who had been abused by their parents and children involved with custody cases after which she would inform the courts what the best course of action would be for the child’s well-being. Very occasionally she was called in to talk to a child witness in a major case. She had been cleared to work with the FBI but had yet to be called as a consultant.
Ella sipped her ice tea and nodded at Ashley. “I know you can’t make him. I just want him to talk so badly. I swear he saw the man that did it and it’s locked in his brain of his. I just wish it would come out.”
Ashley placed her hand over Ella’s wrist. It was the friendly thing to do after all even if the physical contact made her cringe. “If he did see something then in time it will come out. I can promise you that.”
Ella nodded. The strange look of hesitancy remained on her face. Ashley said nothing. If Ella wanted to ask something she would. Sometimes the best way to get information was to say nothing at all. Finally, Ella opened her mouth to speak, “Can I ask you one more thing?”
“Sure Ell, what is it?” Ashley swallowed another sip of Gatorade hoping her face didn’t show that she meant the opposite.
“Would you call Nate? Would you ask him to get involved?”
Ashley almost spit out her Gatorade. In a moment of weakness Ashley had shared about Nate Zimmerman. Now Ashley regretted that moment even more. But Ella was right. If Solomon had indeed struck again then the FBI would need to get involved. And then Nate would once again be involved in her life. Ashley was pretty sure that thought scared her more then a serial killer on the loose who liked to prey on women in their homes.
Monday, January 5, 2009
New Prologue
Blood dripped off her fingers and splattered on the floor in a small pool. He smiled as the pool grew bigger.
Her throat gurgled and her eyes bore into him. He could read them, of course. He knew they wanted help, but he wasn’t going to give any.
She coughed and blood sprayed out of her neck. It would eventually kill her but it would take a while, the cut wasn’t deep enough to kill her instantly. He was here to wait.
“Soon, my love, you will be my wife.” He smiled at her but she did not smile back. Instead she coughed again until she seized and couldn’t breathe. The trickle of blood on her arm ran faster to the floor until she laid her head on the pillow and slowed her breathing. He watched from his perch at the end of the bed as her eyes searched the ceiling.
Whether she was looking towards heaven or for help he could not tell. He licked his lips and tingled with anticipation. It was almost here. Almost the end. This was his favorite part, watching them go. Watching them realize that there was no escape, there was no help. Sometimes they accepted it and went willingly. Other times they fought till the end. Those were his favorite.
But he couldn’t really have a favorite.
They were all his wives. All a part of him.
His hands shook. His fingers touched the wax paper. He wished it didn’t have to be this way. Wished he didn’t need the paper in between them but he couldn’t take any chances.
Some people wanted attention, they wanted to be caught. But not him. He loved these women. Loved seeing their beauty as they died. Loved having this last moment with them. A moment no one else could have. Without this where would he be?
No, there would be no evidence at all. No evidence of their union or of the final kiss. He fingered the wax paper again. He smiled. That would be his alone.
Finally she was still; her coughing and spurted stopped. Her chest still heaved slowly in and out. He stood from his chair, still fingering the wax paper. He walked beside her and looked down at her. Her eyes grew wide as she once again struggled for breath but this time she would find none.
He placed the wax paper over her nose and her mouth. He grabbed both wrists with one hand while holding the paper in place in the other. She made little attempts to struggle. He leaned in and kissed her. With his hand over her nose and his mouth over her mouth she would be unable to breath. Death would come quickly and he would taste it. He would breath in her last and she would be his forever.
She was weak. Her body thrashed only briefly and then lay still. Her chest no longer moved. Her eyes were now glassy and had nothing to search for. He stared at her for a long time. This moment was bittersweet. The end had come but it had been over too quickly. He fingered the wax paper again. This time it was red from her lipstick.
It was time to go.
He didn’t want to leave her but he knew she couldn’t come with him. He didn’t want the cumbersome task of disposing of her body. There was too much evidence that could be transferred, too many clues to leave behind. No, this way was better. They could find her and know that they would no longer have her. That was more enjoyable for him. If they were to have to search for her, they would have hope. He didn’t want them to have hope.
She was his wife now.
Her throat gurgled and her eyes bore into him. He could read them, of course. He knew they wanted help, but he wasn’t going to give any.
She coughed and blood sprayed out of her neck. It would eventually kill her but it would take a while, the cut wasn’t deep enough to kill her instantly. He was here to wait.
“Soon, my love, you will be my wife.” He smiled at her but she did not smile back. Instead she coughed again until she seized and couldn’t breathe. The trickle of blood on her arm ran faster to the floor until she laid her head on the pillow and slowed her breathing. He watched from his perch at the end of the bed as her eyes searched the ceiling.
Whether she was looking towards heaven or for help he could not tell. He licked his lips and tingled with anticipation. It was almost here. Almost the end. This was his favorite part, watching them go. Watching them realize that there was no escape, there was no help. Sometimes they accepted it and went willingly. Other times they fought till the end. Those were his favorite.
But he couldn’t really have a favorite.
They were all his wives. All a part of him.
His hands shook. His fingers touched the wax paper. He wished it didn’t have to be this way. Wished he didn’t need the paper in between them but he couldn’t take any chances.
Some people wanted attention, they wanted to be caught. But not him. He loved these women. Loved seeing their beauty as they died. Loved having this last moment with them. A moment no one else could have. Without this where would he be?
No, there would be no evidence at all. No evidence of their union or of the final kiss. He fingered the wax paper again. He smiled. That would be his alone.
Finally she was still; her coughing and spurted stopped. Her chest still heaved slowly in and out. He stood from his chair, still fingering the wax paper. He walked beside her and looked down at her. Her eyes grew wide as she once again struggled for breath but this time she would find none.
He placed the wax paper over her nose and her mouth. He grabbed both wrists with one hand while holding the paper in place in the other. She made little attempts to struggle. He leaned in and kissed her. With his hand over her nose and his mouth over her mouth she would be unable to breath. Death would come quickly and he would taste it. He would breath in her last and she would be his forever.
She was weak. Her body thrashed only briefly and then lay still. Her chest no longer moved. Her eyes were now glassy and had nothing to search for. He stared at her for a long time. This moment was bittersweet. The end had come but it had been over too quickly. He fingered the wax paper again. This time it was red from her lipstick.
It was time to go.
He didn’t want to leave her but he knew she couldn’t come with him. He didn’t want the cumbersome task of disposing of her body. There was too much evidence that could be transferred, too many clues to leave behind. No, this way was better. They could find her and know that they would no longer have her. That was more enjoyable for him. If they were to have to search for her, they would have hope. He didn’t want them to have hope.
She was his wife now.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Writing Resolutions
I can't believe it's been months since I've posted any writing here! I apologize for that - it has been a very busy few months - 3 consignment sales in October, 4 birthdays in November and then, of course, Christmas.
I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and a very blessed New Year!
Once again my writing resolutions begin with:
1. Write a complete novel in 2009 - I had success in 2008 so I plan to continue for 2009. Be prepared - things are going to be very different and some of what was in the last novel may be re-written in the new novel. Just forewarning :)
2. Attend another writing conference. I had great success when I went in August and I am really hoping to go again - this time in Colorado at the American Christian Fiction Writer's Conference - all fiction - right up my alley.
3. Get published. I've had 2 articles published but I'd really like to work on more. I'm not tying myself down to a proposal a week or anything but I do plan to make the effort to get it done.
Pray for me in all this and thanks for stopping back by - I'm sorry it's been a while but I should have the new prologue and first chapter up soon. Seriously...
I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and a very blessed New Year!
Once again my writing resolutions begin with:
1. Write a complete novel in 2009 - I had success in 2008 so I plan to continue for 2009. Be prepared - things are going to be very different and some of what was in the last novel may be re-written in the new novel. Just forewarning :)
2. Attend another writing conference. I had great success when I went in August and I am really hoping to go again - this time in Colorado at the American Christian Fiction Writer's Conference - all fiction - right up my alley.
3. Get published. I've had 2 articles published but I'd really like to work on more. I'm not tying myself down to a proposal a week or anything but I do plan to make the effort to get it done.
Pray for me in all this and thanks for stopping back by - I'm sorry it's been a while but I should have the new prologue and first chapter up soon. Seriously...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)