Rivals

by Claudia Silva

  6:45 a.m.

  Everyone has a routine. Some get up very early in the morning and run around the block, others mow the lawn every Sunday, and there are some who spend the night at choir practice.

  Erik Peterson also had a routine. Not a very common one, but a routine, nonetheless.

  Every morning, woken by his alarm clock, he would get up as if from the worst nightmare of his life to find a damp and dirty room before him. For a moment, his vision would turn yellow, like staring at an old black and white picture that's starting to rot with age.

  With the blinds always down and the windows shut, he examined his dark one-bedroom studio as if it was the first time he’d ever laid eyes on it.

  Slowly, he turned his head just enough to catch a glimpse of the clock on the wall. He always looked at the circular analog clock on the wall instead of the digital alarm clock on the floor right next to the bed. The alarm clock had one job and it did it promptly at 6:15 in the A.M.

  Damn, he cursed quietly as if realizing he would need to live another day.

  Gathering all of his strength, he managed to get out of bed and walk to the small, door-less bathroom. Looking at his reflection in the cracked mirror and grasping the white sink with both hands, he pulled back his head until his neck cracked. That, too, was part of the routine – and the highlight of his day. He would then open the cabinet door to his right to reveal four small bottles lined up in front of him. The bottles contained a thick yellow liquid he usually stared at every morning before finding his old syringe to put it to use. Once the viscous liquid was sucked out of the bottle, Eric Peterson returned the now emptier bottle back in the cabinet to join its sisters.

  With a few taps to the glass, he made sure there were no air bubbles in the syringe; experience told him bubbles meant pain. Finally, before giving it a last thought, he raised his left arm in front of him, palm out, fist closed. Swallowing hard, he readied himself to ignore the daily pain.

  The needle pierced his skin in a similar manner it had yesterday; and the day before, and the day before that... He bit his lip to stop his mouth from opening wide with an agonizing scream. Tears seldom escaped him, but this particular morning, he was not able to stop a tear rolling down his cheek – the contents of the syringe emptied under his skin, burning his every vein.

  As his knees trembled with pain, Erik quickly threw the syringe in the sink in time to take a hold of the ceramic tiled walls to stop himself from falling. Once he felt strong enough, he would rinse the syringe to use the next day. He wouldn’t be needing a new one for a couple of days.

  Like that, the deed was done, the drug inside him. Everything was right with the world again. Slowly, he remembered that everything did, in fact, make sense. On second thought, it was this moment which was the highlight of his day.

  9:15 a.m.

  Captain Weeds, head of police headquarters, was looking through the file of Erik Peterson’s new partner. Ignoring Erik’s constant grumbling sounds, Weeds took his time until he finally finished the long, three-page resume.

  Throwing the document on the desk carelessly, he faced the detective in front of him, “All right, Peterson. I think I finally found you a partner.” The captain’s voice contained an odd mix of hope and doubt, clearly knowing what this statement meant to the man sitting opposite him with a hateful smirk.

  Erik tried his best to look uncomfortable and disappointed. It wasn’t a secret he didn’t really need or want a partner, but it was apparent no one at the station cared what his opinion was on the matter. He was well aware that detectives kept their jobs by following rules and by doing what the captain told them. If the captain wanted every detective to have a partner, he would make it so or the detectives could find themselves another job.

  His last partner, Kevin McCallister, had been an old man who had transferred from Chicago. He had lasted about a month before his heart gave out. After his death, Captain Weeds had taken his time in finding someone new for him. For some reason, nobody lasted long next to Erik Peterson. Not long at all.

  “I told you, I’m fine on my own,” Peterson’s raspy voice filled the room. “You know my work, you know I can do the job. You know me.”

  “You’ll meet her,” the captain said, completely ignoring him while he returned the resume on his desk to the cabinet. Looking at his watch, he said, “Should be here right about now, I gather.”

  Erik’s expression suddenly changed, “Wait a minute… She?” Peterson’s eyes narrowed in disgust. “You can’t possibly expect me to work with a wo-”

  “Of course I can,” the captain interrupted with his loud, booming voice. “Better get used to it, Erik. Your new partner is a woman and you’re gonna like it.” He shook his head from side to side, “Believe me, after all the reports you’ve been getting, this will be good for you. Heck, it’ll be good for the department!”

  Peterson knew exactly which reports his boss was referring to. Everybody in the department knew about his temper. Unfortunately, the civilians didn’t and the reports about his behavior seemed to be exponentially growing lately. They all said the same thing, too rude, too cold, too angry. It was always something. So what if he didn’t have the greatest people skills? Not everybody had the same talents. Besides, he hadn’t joined the force to sugar-coat idiots, he had joined it to keep them safe. That was all that should matter.

  Captain Weeds could have been reading his thoughts when he said: “I know what you’re thinking, but it’s a win-win situation, Peterson. She gets her chance at homicide and you get… well, she’ll help you become more, um, amiable.”

  “Great plan,” Peterson said in a monotonous tone.

  “It’s not you who has to explain to all those news reporters why your head detective is an ass!” The captain huffed. “If you’d played nice, this wouldn’t have happened, so stop complaining. You did this to yourself. You’ve left me no other choice.” He paused and shrugged as if trying to convince himself he was doing the right thing.

  “And you should be grateful, too,” he added. Just take a look at this resume.” He took it back out from the cabinet and tossed it in Peterson’s direction. “You’re gonna love her.”

  Peterson reached for the document as if it were the most disgusting thing in the captain’s office. Knowing Weeds expected more than a few grunts coming out of him, he rolled his eyes as he tossed the pages back on the desk without reading more than a few lines.

  The captain watched him in irritation. “What is it now, Peterson? Not good enough for you? You barely even glanced at that file.”

  “No need,” Peterson cleared his throat. “She has never been in the field, sir. Everything else is just words.”

  Weeds took the document back and pretended he was reading it again. “That may be true, but she graduated top of her class at the academy. She has an impeccable record as being highly professional, cooperative, and proactive. And, most importantly, she’s got great people skills. I hear she even won some beauty pageant when she was in high school.” Peterson raised an eyebrow, but the captain kept on. “Come on, that must count for something! Just think about all you can teach her. All she can learn from you and…”

  “I’m not a good teacher.” Peterson was quick to jump in. “And I’m not a babysitter.”

  The captain took a deep, calming breath. “Nor are you a normal human being, it seems.” Weeds suddenly tensed, “I’m looking at her now. She’s coming.” Then he looked at Peterson menacingly. “Listen to me, Erik, she’ll come into my office and you will be a gentleman, do you understand? Unless you want me to give into H.R.’s wishes and kick your butt out on the street!”

  Erik knew that wasn’t a real possibility. Sure, he had his defects, but his crime-solving record was matched by no one in the department. If anything, they would
be the losers if they let him go. “I still don’t think this is a good idea because-”

  His sentence was cut short by the door opening. Peterson heard high heels on the ceramic floor and cringed. Whatever he had done to deserve such a punishment was beyond him. No one else had some woman following him around pestering him. No. This sort of thing only seemed to happen to him.

  “Ms. Brigman. So glad you could join us,” he heard the captain utter the name of his worst nightmare. Watching the old man walk past him to greet her, Erik refused to turn around to take a look at his new partner

  “Hi, Captain. I’m just so thrilled to finally be here.” Hearing the woman strong Southern accent finally forced him to turn around. He saw was the perfect woman. Or what other men would consider perfect - he certainly didn’t. Ms. Brigman had long straight blonde hair, sparkly blue eyes, a pointed nose and a smile that looked impossibly fake.

  Erik tried to pretend he wasn’t staring at her dimples as he finally stood up, slouching, to formally be introduced.

  “Erik, this is Viola Brigman. Viola, this is Erik Peterson. Your new partner.”

  The hand with the bright red nails shot up immediately. “I’ve heard so much about you, Erik. Oh, my gosh, we’re going to have the best time!”

  “Call me Peterson,” Erik told her, ignoring her hand. He then turned to the captain, “At least she’s not wearing a skirt.”

  “Excuse me?” Ms. Brigman asked, pretending to be offended; her smile still remained. It would soon be clear she wasn’t easy to insult. Still forcing that smile she said, “Don’t worry, Weeds, I’m sure we’ll get along just fine in a few days. All we need to do its start talking – communicating – and everything will be just peachy.”

  Peachy? Peterson scoffed. Unbelievable.

  The woman was not done talking. “Besides, I wouldn’t worry about those reports. I’ve never had anyone complain about me before and I’m sure not about to start now.”

  “The day is young,” Erik muttered.

  “Nonsense,” Viola dismissed him. Reaching for his hand, she forced a shake out of her new partner. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Peterson.”

  “Well, enough with introductions,” Weeds started guiding them out of the office. “Why don’t you kids go on and start working the magic.” He saw Ms. Brigman out first before turning to Peterson. “Come on, it can’t be that bad. Just do your job and let her do hers.”

  The door slammed behind them and Erik heard Viola giggle. “I just love him, don’t you?” Was she referring to their boss?

  Erik turned to look at her in confusion. In an instant, he thought on a million sarcastic replies he could use on her. Of course, it was his sarcasm that had gotten him into this mess in the first place and he wasn’t planning on making it any worse. Instead, he started walking away. “Let’s go, Brigman. Don’t slow me down.”

  Viola smiled and quickly followed.

  10:00 a.m.

  “… and don’t worry, I don’t even like to drive, so that won’t be a problem,” Viola was saying just as the elevator door opened, her voice the only sound Erik heard echoing in the garage, her hands moving right and left creating circles in the air as she yakked endlessly.

  Erik completely ignored her as he got in the car, starting the engine. If Viola hadn’t gotten in the car as fast as she had he would have ditched her. If she asked a question, he either grunted or rolled his eyes. As rude as he was purposely trying to be, his new partner didn’t seem affected by his behavior in the slightest.

  Apart from the fact that she was immune to his indifference, she could be quite distracting. “Watch out for that light!” she shrieked suddenly. Erik absentmindedly hit the brakes thinking there had to be a reason for her alarm. Unfortunately, it was nothing at all; if anything, he would have caused an accident by the sudden break in front of a yellow light. It was then that Viola put the cherry on top by adding, “Phew! That was close!”

  Erik rubbed the wheel with both hands so hard as a way to calm down he was close to breaking it in half. Closing his fiery eyes he took a few deep breaths; then he took more deep breaths until he felt he was ready to face her again.

  “Listen,” he began, then paused as he felt the anger rise again. He decided against speaking, focusing on taking calming breaths as he counted silently to ten.

  He could felt Viola staring at him waiting to hear what he had been about to say with anticipation. How disappointed she would be to find he had given up on talking. “You don’t say much, do you?” One more, much deeper breath came out of him. Finally, Viola Brigman shook her head in disappointment as she gave up on him. Turning to look out her window she noted rain had begun to fall on the already gray day. She muttered, “This is going to be harder than I thought.”

  That had been the last drop, “What is that supposed to mean?” Erik growled.

  Viola didn’t seem at all intimidated by this. “Well, you know.” No, he did not know. Nor would he know anytime soon because Viola was quick to change the subject. “Don’t you just love rainy days?” Here we go again, thought Erik. Her smile was also back. “I love them. I think they’re the best thing ever. Did you know that I am more creative when it rains? I love it. I really do. I just… I don’t know. Ideas come to me. Solutions. Maybe this is our lucky day, maybe you’ll be surprised at how helpful I can really be!”

  “I doubt it,” Erik said under his breath.

  Viola heard him, nonetheless. Narrowing her eyes, she turned to face him once more, “Now, you listen to me, mister. I don’t know what your problem is, but I’m not going to let you drag me into your dark place just because you act all broody and insufferable. When I got this job, I knew exactly what kind of person you were, and believe you me, I know the Lord Jesus Christ sent me here and will help me save your soul. Everything happens for a reason and I’m your reason.”

  They had been waiting on a red light. In silence, they waited until the color changed. Erik sped off for a few miles before finding a parking spot, killing the engine. He looked at her, “The Lord?” he asked her in disbelief, “Seriously?”

  He was out of the car before Viola could say anything else; she had to follow him down the block quickly to be able to catch up with him. “Hey!” she shouted, her heels moving rapidly on the concrete. “Wait a minute. Where are you going? You can’t just leave me there!”

  “I’ve got work to do,” Erik said without turning around to face her. “Why? Can’t you keep up?”

  Viola was out of breath by the time Erik finally stopped. “I’ve known you less than an hour and already I feel I want to file a report about your conduct. You can’t just leave me and-“

  “This is the crime scene,” he shut her up. Around the corner, Viola saw people from different departments walking in and out of an alley.

  “What happened here?”

  Erik snorted in amusement, “That’s what I’m here to find out.”

  10:25 p.m.

  “Do you even read the news?” Erik began as he walked toward the covered body, “Or is that too much darkness to cover your sunshine?”

  Viola ignored the last remark, “The news?”

  Nodding, Erik knelt down next to the body uncovering it’s face and torso. “The Vampire.”

  “Excuse me?” asked Viola, confused.

  “This is another victim of The Vampire. Are you familiar with the case?” It was evident she wasn’t. “If you want to become a detective you have to at least make an effort to find out about the crime happening in your city.”

  “Fine,” Viola snapped, “So, I’ll watch the news. In the meantime, can you tell me who The Vampire is?”

  “I don’t know,” Erik said calmly, “If I knew, this man would be alive and we wouldn’t be here, would we?”

  Erik didn’t acknowledge Viola’s expression of disgust, all he did was study the victim in front of him. “We call him The Vampire because he drains his victims of their blood.”

  “Can that even happen?” frowned Viola.

>   “It’s happening,” sighed Erik. “See here?” He pointed to a series of small wounds on the victim’s neck. “Whatever he’s doing, he’s doing it through there. He, or she,” he was quick to point out, “is sucking out these people dry and we have no idea why.”

  After a moment’s silence, Viola blurted out, “Why not The Leach?”

  Erik rolled his eyes, his patience disappearing fast again. “That’s what you call detective work?”

  The conversation quickly ended when an officer approached them looking to speak with Detective Peterson. Turning his back to Viola, Erik listened to the officer tell him about the wife of the victim, a Mrs. Sheila Lowosky, who had just arrived at the scene. It seemed like she had been the one who had called in her husband’s murder a few hours before.

  “Wait, where are you going?” an abandoned Viola called.

  “What does it look like I’m doing? I need to interview a witness, I’ll be right back,” Erik said nonchalantly.

  Behind him, his persistent partner followed.

  12:25 p.m.

  “What happens now?” Viola asked as she got in the car with her new partner. “Where are we going?”

  Erik took his time to reply, “Forensics will clean up the scene when they’re done gathering all the information they need. The body of Mr. Lowosky will go to the morgue. Once they find something, they’ll give me a call and-“

  “You mean they’ll give us a call,” interrupted Viola, “We’re working together. We’re partners, remember?” Erik did not answer. The car took them into a new neighborhood. Viola didn’t need to ask where they were headed, she knew Mrs. Lowosky had given Erik a lead as to the killer’s possible whereabouts

  Viola didn’t say any more. Her happy-happy joy-joy attitude was slowly disappearing. The day hadn’t been at all what she’d expected. Her new partner was seriously abnormal, but at least appeared to know what he was doing. If she played it smart, she would learn all she could from him and then ask for a transfer once she had become more valuable to the department. All she really had to do was keep him out of trouble.