by Levi Fuller
The image on my computer is a list of young offenders in West Virginia who had been released within the last year. I cannot see their fears through their photographs, but I also can't risk taking any unexplained time away to hunt in person. This is a punishment, confined to my small office, looking at targets on a screen, unable to see the shadows.
Or maybe a blessing in disguise?
The eyes are an exact match in hue. A dark brown, nearly black, but shot through with slivers of dark honey.
I can see him again, looming over my little sister and me, his eyes, these eyes, pitiless and cruel as he shuts us in the long, outdoor run. The dogs are barking. Hungry, savage sounds. They've been beaten, too. Taught that life is only pain and terror with the single escape being to rip and tear. My sister whimpers. Her terror of dogs is something she's had since she was three. He laughs, taking pleasure in her fear, and lets the dogs loose.
I shake my head viciously, jostling the waking nightmare loose. My uncle is dead. I killed him.
He is dead.
I look back at the screen, where the mug-shot of James Burton looks back. It is always a risk to let my past guide my hand, but it has been many, many years now since Nashville and I doubt whether anyone remembers my uncle except me.
He is dead.
Besides, this time I won’t let myself be careless. This hunt will follow my usual, careful method. By the time I’m ready for this kill, Kanawha Forest and the nearby Water Ways will boast many visiting teenagers, coming in for some carefree fun over spring break. Perhaps this boy, or someone near him will be among the throng.
I feel the pressure spike in anticipation and frustration. It was only nearing the end of summer, now. I content the jagged snarl in my head with the thought that our spring break guests invariably travel in packs, so the long wait would be worth it.
****
Violet thought about ignoring the door. She had been wallowing in her own anger and misery for two days now and was in no mood for visitors.
“If this is a neighbor complaining about my mail again, they're going to have a really bad morning.”
The buzzer sounded again and Violet cursed.
“What?”
Silence greeted her brusque answer to the intercom and she nearly slammed the receiver down.
“Hi, uh, it's Dhillan, I was wondering if—” A dog's loud bark drowned out the rest of his sentence.
Violet looked over to the window. Summer was still in full swing, pushing autumn another day down the track. The coming winter would be fierce, but today the sky was a brilliant blue, a cloudless Sunday, a perfect day for dog walkers to take to the woods.
I won't be able to go to the woods for a walk. Not yet.
“Shh, Keme, shh,” Dhillan's voice said over the crackly intercom, then he sighed, his breath making a loud boom of static. “I'm taking Keme along the river.”
His statement stalled Violet's ready denial.
“Do you want to join us?”
Violet looked down at her sweatpants and striped tank top. The mirror over the stand showed her a face with no make-up and a sloppy ponytail.
“I'd like that.” Violet looked at her reflection in horror, realizing that she'd spoken out loud.
“Great!” Dhillan said then cut the feed from his end.
Violet sighed again, giving herself another once over.
Oh, who cares what I look like.
She grabbed her sneakers from under the coat stand and redid her ponytail as she headed down the stairs.
On of her neighbors gave her a penetrating look as they crossed paths at the door to the small block of flats.
“What was that about?” Dhillan asked, his eyes clear of any amusement over her attire.
“They were all questioned earlier this week.” Violet kept her voice low, not meeting Dhillan's eyes as they began to walk. Instead, she watched the giant, black German Shepherd’s tail wagging furiously.
“I'm sorry.”
Silence fell between them while Keme tugged the lead and sniffed everything he could reach.
“Do you always walk Keme along the river?”
“No, we normally go to the forest.” Dhillan cast a sideways glance down at her and ran a hand through his loose, raven hair, looking for all the world like a biker in his black tank top and faded jeans. “I thought you might like a trip out. It isn't good to be indoors all the time.”
Violet smiled. “I was definitely in danger of getting cabin fever.”
Dhillan chuckled, then he sobered. “I'm sorry about that, too.”
Violet stopped, looking up at his face. “Dhi—”
“Oh, heya guys!”
Violet and Dhillan both turned to look at Kareena as she approached, Alma a step behind her, eyes fixed on Keme before briefly lifting to smile at them.
Violet stood to the side as Dhillan greeted his sister and she fawned over the dog.
“We're sorry to hear about your suspension.”
Violet looked over at Alma. She hadn't ever spoken to the profiler much, but she respected her abilities and was glad she was working on Jane's case.
Violet shrugged. “It is what it is.”
“We'll help if we can,” Kareena added, as she straightened up from patting Keme.
“Thanks,” Violet said as Keme gave a loud, impatient bark.
Alma flinched and Kareena went back to link arms with her. “Anytime. Have a good day!”
Violet watched the two women move away, hand in hand. The sight brought a pang of sadness to her heart.
Dhillan placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I understand if you don't want to keep going.”
Violet met his eyes and felt the pain ease. “The walls of my house would be even worse.” Besides, I want to keep going.
Dhillan grinned and started walking again, keeping his strides measured to her much smaller steps.
****
“Is that it?”
Dhillan resisted the urge to sigh. “I'm afraid so.”
Mark turned away from him and headed for the window, hands clenched behind his back.
Dhillan ignored the watching Orlo twins and placed the thin file of forensic evidence on Mark's desk. “The fabric may be important. I am running it through our archives.”
Mark didn't answer, his shoulders tense.
Dhillan turned to leave. “I will go and see how far along the program is.”
“Dr. Chais?” Mark had turned back to the room. “I apologize. You have done your best, we all know it.”
Dhillan nodded once in acknowledgment of the compliment.
“I will bring you an update when the program has completed its search.”
Mark nodded. “Take Dr. Mavros a file too. Ask her to take a look.”
Dhillan nodded again. Mark was right. Although Alma was employed as a criminal profiler, she had proven many times that she was good at spotting connections no one else ever seemed to see. With so little evidence, they needed all the help they could get if Jane's case wasn't going to end up in the Freezer, too.
Dhillan returned to his office and found his computer beeping. He smiled down at the screen. Fabric scraps from three different murders all matched the one they'd found at this crime scene. He printed out the necessary sheets and then moved off to deliver a file to Alma first, before returning to Mark.
“You look cheerful, Dhillan,” Alma observed as he entered her office.
Dhillan dragged his eyes away from the leering mask above her desk and looked down at her.
“I think we might finally be on to something.”
Alma took the file, her eyes still on his. “Really?”
Dhillan stilled the disquiet her unblinking gaze was causing. “Yeah. Detective Decleor wants you in on this.”
Alma halfsmiled, finally looking away. “Tell him I will see what I can find.”
Dhillan nodded and left. She had a sharp mind. He was sure that if anyone c
ould find hidden connections, it was her.
****
“Madison? Now?”
I look up at Kareena, our dinner of seafood pasta and wine sitting between us. “We're owed the time off and the Boone County Coal Festival is still going on. I've always wanted to go back, you know.”
Kareena smiles at the tone of my voice. Nearly ten years ago, at that same fair, I asked her to move in with me.
“I'd like that.”
I watch her bite her lip, an endearing tick she has whenever she is worried. Knowing her as I do, I think I can guess what is on her mind.
“And we wouldn't be too far, in case the VCB needs us back.”
Her soft brown eyes meet my dark blue ones and she grins sheepishly. “That obvious?”
I smile back. “You have a kind heart. I understand your wanting to help Violet out. Especially now.”
Kareena nods, then giggles. “Or I could just leave it up to Dhillan.”
I laugh with her, even as my mind rebels at the idea of his helping Violet. Dhillan has proven yet again that he is smarter and more thorough than is good for him. My unease spikes at the thought of the fabric he has found and linked to more of my kills. For his sake, as well as ours, I hope he stays well out of it.
Kareena laughs some more about her brother in between mouthfuls of pasta. I only half-listen, already planning my hunt. Social media has, as always, been a big help to me. The target I found a few nights ago lives in Madison. The festival is always packed with the young. A week there with Kareena will be plenty of time to pick my marks and see their fears. The rest can be planned from afar.
8
There are noises everywhere. Discordant music, laughter, shouting, even crying. Smells tickle my nose. Cotton candy, hay, hot dogs and beer. Kareena laughs beside me as she plays a shooting game, trying to win a stuffed toy. I encourage her, even as my eyes try to pull away, back to my target, to the boy with eyes like my uncle's.
I had first seen him on our second day here, walking up the street, friends in tow. I had felt a surge of hunger, of need, when I saw the shadows, the fears in his mind. Drowning. Mundane to most people, but I hadn't had the pleasure of a drowning in a few years. And he wouldn't be alone. It was always more satisfying if there was more than one fear in play, especially when the fears allowed me to be present at the end.
Some of his friends are more interesting than others. There's one with a fear of fire, another of snakes. His girlfriend is fascinating. Her deepest fear is betrayal, but not his. His best friend, who fears spiders, is the target of her fear.
“Did you see that shot!”
I laugh with her. “It was brilliant!”
She kisses my cheek and chooses her prize. I take her waist as we continue through the festival. I managed to get my targets' names earlier, through careful listening and cross referencing some of the pictures on social media they were bragging about. No need to follow them in person. Unlike Jane, this group has a big presence online. Their routines, connections and plans will be easy enough to ascertain without needing to risk exposure. Stalking them online would not be as thrilling as doing it in person, but it would ease the pressure in my mind enough to avoid any foolishness. Hopefully.
****
As Violet stepped into the foyer of the Hut, the chatter seized. She looked around and watched as her waiting neighbor looked away, refusing to meet her eyes.
Stifling her feeling of unease, she began to walk purposefully towards the double doors that barred the way into the Artery and the rest of the building. She stopped suddenly, remembering that she no longer carried the security pass that would allow her to pass through.
Cursing Jason to the darkest pit in hell, she spun to the left and moved over to Rose's desk.
“Morning Violet.”
Violet suppressed an exasperated sigh as she returned the greeting and waited for Mark to be summoned. Rose had known her since she was in diapers and hadn't been able to shake the habit of calling her by her first name only. Normally, this didn't matter, but now, with her neighbor standing just off to the side, the lack of her title seemed like another unjust accusation.
She had no doubt that her gossip of a neighbor had been called here for the same reason as she: a follow up interrogation on Jane's case. She kept her eyes on the double doors, hoping that it meant they'd found something new, something that meant they were closer to finding out who took her friend from her.
It wasn't Mark who came to collect her. She glanced sideways at Greg as he marched silently beside her. She shoved down a wave of annoyance. It was a good thing that they were treating her like any other suspect off the street. Special treatment could be used to throw the case out of court if it ever came to it.
Even so, I hope Mark is in the room again.
He hadn't been any help, but his presence was a small reassurance because she knew he didn't suspect her at all.
“Please have a seat.” Greg had stopped beside an open door, his hand extended towards it in an open-palmed gesture.
Violet moved past him, her eyes automatically sweeping the room. She felt her muscles begin to lock as two things became immediately apparent. One, Mark was nowhere in sight and two, the man and woman sitting across the table were not VCB officers of any kind. It took a lot of effort to nod politely and move to her allotted seat.
Greg introduced them, but Violet didn't hear their names. All she really caught was that they were detectives from Montgomery sent to look into Jane's murder by her family. Firstly because her father wanted his own people on his daughter's case and also because he had reason to believe the murderer had been identified and Violet was the prime suspect.
Violet's head felt like it was spinning.
This is okay, she reminded herself forcefully. Outside help will mean that when this gets to court with the actual murderer, the defendants won't be able to claim that the VCB let me off easy.
“Miss Turner?”
Violet forced her eyes to focus on the male detective. “Yes?”
He frowned. “I asked if you were ready for us to begin?”
Violet nodded, swallowing her fear. You are being ridiculous. You know you didn't do this!
“I am going to read out your previous statement. If, at any point, there is something you'd like to amend, please stop me.”
Violet nodded again and waited while he read out her statement. He watched her a moment in silence when she failed to interrupt him then turned to his partner and swapped the paper he had read from for another.
“What time did you leave Outback Steakhouse in Charleston?”
“Around eight-thirty.”
“Did you leave with Ms. Luton?”
“I left with the whole bachelorette party.” Just pretend you're back in training. This is just routine. Stay calm.
“According to statements from other members of Ms Luton's party they left the restaurant at nine, not eight thirty.”
Violet pulled a face. “I said around eight thirty. If it was closer to nine then that's still in the ball park.”
The female detective looked up from her scribbling at the petulant tone, then continued writing. Why is she even bothering? This whole thing is being recorded.
“So you are amending your earlier statement?”
“No,” Violet bit down a curse. Why were they trying to twist her words and catch her out? “All I'm saying is that I never said it was precisely eight thirty. Somewhere between there and nine is possible.”
He nodded and his partner very deliberately scratched out a sentence on her notes.
Violet clenched her fists under the desk. She resisted the urge to demand to know why she was the primary suspect. Interrupting would do her no good and more importantly it would only waste more time in the race to find Jane's murderer.
“Very well. You said after leaving the restaurant you did not remain with the group.”
“That's right.”
“
Why?”
“They were heading over to the Boulevard Tavern. I had work the next day, staying up until the small hours was not an option for me.”
She forced herself to hold their gaze as they both looked up, weighing her response silently.
“You didn't want to continue celebrating with your, and I quote, 'best and closest friend'?”
She had to work hard to school her expression and not glare at the woman.
“I wanted to.” Violet said, in a near -whisper, the effort not to swear a tightness in her throat.
They watched her for another long moment, then the ma continued.
“So they left for the tavern with Ms. Luton and you did what?”
“I have already answered this. I got in my car and I drove back here, to Marmet.”
He half raised an eyebrow at her harsh tone, but moved on. “What route did you take?”
“WV-61 S.”
“Did you drive straight home?”
“Yes.”
“What time did you arrive home?”
“Jesus! I've answered all this crap before!” Violet met their stony gaze and sighed. “I'd say between quarter past and half past nine.”
“What did you do when you arrived?”
“Gathered the mail from my pigeon hole and went up to my apartment.”
“You live in a duplex, with four apartments, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see any of your neighbors?”
“No.”
“Was there anyone in your apartment?”
“No. I live alone,” Violet bit out. She wasn't sure how long they'd been sitting here but every moment they were interrogating her they let the real murderer run free. She had been patient enough.
“What did you do once you were home?”
“For f..'s sake! I did the normal things everyone does. I dumped my handbag, took a shower and went to bed.”
“Did you watch any TV?”
“No.”
“Did you use any social media or email accounts?”
