by L. T. Ryan
The heat outside felt different, accompanied by a breeze that swept the sweat from her skin and filled her chest with a warmth that crept outward. She could breathe out here, and a deep lung full of air was enough to chase away the demons that had haunted her seconds before.
“Cassie? You okay?”
Cassie spun around to see Jason sitting at a picnic table with a sandwich in one hand and his phone in the other. He looked concerned, but it was offset by a splotch of mustard sitting at the corner of his mouth.
“I didn’t know anyone was out here.” She pulled her own phone out. “I also didn’t realize it was lunchtime.”
Jason shoved the rest of his sandwich in his mouth and wiped his face clean. He gestured to the seat across from him. “You can join me if you want. I have another ten minutes left.”
“I’m not that hungry, to be honest.” Seeing a dead woman a few moments ago suppressed her appetite. She saw the disappointment on Jason’s face for the second time that day, so she sat down across from him anyway. The sun felt good on her back.
“How you doing today?” she asked.
“I think I asked you first.” Jason’s eyes saw right through her.
Cassie took a deep breath. “Honestly, I’m not sure.”
“Fair enough. Wanna talk about it?”
“Wouldn’t know where to start.”
“How about at the beginning? How was your morning?”
The image of the woman standing over her bed sent a chill down her spine. “Had a panic attack.”
“They can be pretty rough. It took me a long time to get my anxiety under control, and I still struggle sometimes.”
“I didn’t know you had anxiety, too.” Jason felt like more than just a coworker or someone she was interested in. He could understand her. An invisible bond connected them in a way a lot of people wouldn’t understand.
Jason shrugged. “I’m getting better at talking about it but it’s not always easy. I enlisted in the army right out of high school. Figured it would be a good career, carry me into my forties. Took me too long to realize that wasn’t what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. Saw a lot of things that I’ll never be able to forget.” His gaze drifted past Cassie.
Cassie felt the urge to say sorry, to tell him she was sad he felt that way. But she hated it when people did that to her. She realized that she had no idea if Jason was at all aware of what she had gone through. Had he seen the papers? Had he put two and two together?
She didn’t need to know. So, she said, “Thanks for sharing that with me.”
“Welcome.” His smile warmed her more than the sun had. “If you ever want to talk about what’s going on, I promise I’m a pretty good listener.”
Cassie’s automatic response was to wave away the offer, but she wanted someone else’s advice. She didn’t know what to do anymore and she didn’t trust herself to make the right decisions.
“I have this… situation,” she said. “A friend needs help, but I’m not sure I can help. I’m not sure I want to. And I feel like that makes me a bad person.”
“Not necessarily.” His answer was easy and automatic. It loosened some of the worry in her chest. “Does helping your friend hurt you in any way? Does it make you uncomfortable?”
Cassie ducked her head and stared at the ground. “Yes.”
“But you’re still thinking about helping them? I think that makes you a good person.”
“Even if I don’t end up doing what they’re asking me to do?”
“A good friend will understand you might be at your limit. We all have buckets full of different kinds of energy. Physical energy. Emotional energy. Social energy. At any given time, they could be empty or full or somewhere in between for no reason at all.”
“That seems arbitrary and dumb.”
Jason threw his head back and laughed. “It is. But it’s how we operate. Or, at least, how some of us operate. Maybe you have to wait until one of your buckets fills up more.”
“What if my friend can’t wait?” Cassie asked. “What if there’s a time limit on helping?”
Jason twisted the corner of his mouth up while he thought. “You have to decide if you can still help them when your bucket isn’t full. Are the consequences of depleting your energy higher than the consequences of not helping your friend?”
It was Cassie’s turn to scrunch up her face. “I dunno.”
“Maybe you don’t have to take it on all by yourself. Is there someone else who can help?”
Cassie thought of the detective, who was so determined to solve the case. “You know, I think there is.”
Jason leaned back, clapped his hands, and held them out wide. “See? There you go. Problem solved.”
Cassie blushed. She felt vulnerable and silly and dumb. “I didn’t mean to turn your lunch break into a therapy session. I’m sorry about that.”
“I’m not.” Jason looked down at his hands and smiled. “I like talking to you.”
“Likewise.” Cassie smiled.
“Well, that’s good to hear.” Jason took a deep breath and locked eyes with her again. “I’ve been meaning to ask this for a while, but I was wondering if you might want to grab dinner with me sometime?”
Cassie’s blush deepened. She opened her mouth to answer that yes, she’d love to, but no sound came out. The image of the woman with a gaping hole in her chest returned, unbidden, to the forefront of her mind.
Jason caught the hesitation. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I thought—”
“Yes! I mean no.” Cassie smacked her hand against her forehead. “No, you did not make me uncomfortable. And yes, I would love to go to dinner with you sometime.”
Jason gave a nervous smile. “I’m feeling a but coming on here.”
“But,” Cassie said, “my friend.”
“Ah.”
The inflection in Jason’s voice made her realize the assumption he made. She wanted nothing more than to hang out with Jason outside of work, but she also didn’t want her unwelcome visitor to show up in the middle of dinner. She had learned not to react over the years, but they still caught her off guard occasionally.
Plus, if she could solve this case, it could mean plenty of dates without any interruptions. And that would be worth the wait.
“I’m not sure what my friend might need from me, so I don’t want to make any promises I can’t keep,” Cassie said, proud that it wasn’t a lie. “But once that’s taken care of, I would love to grab dinner with you.”
“Sounds like a date.”
Cassie smiled. “It does.”
Jason returned to work, but Cassie elected to soak up the sun for a few more minutes. She pulled out her cell and the detective’s business card, which she’d kept tucked inside her phone case on the off chance she decided to reach out. Any excitement left over from being asked out had already faded away. She had a bigger mountain in front of her:
How to solve a murder when her abilities were faulty at best.
Ten
Detective Harris met Cassie at Lafayette Square at Abercorn and Macon Streets after work. A mother and daughter stood hand-in-hand in front of a three-tiered fountain in the center of the square. The little girl shut her eyes tight, raised a clenched fist and tossed a handful of change into the water. She lifted one eyelid, then the other. A smile crept across her face and Cassie felt the child’s innocence and joy lifting the mood of the park. Even the Spanish moss waltzed in three-quarter time with the gentle breeze.
Cassie spotted Harris exiting her sedan. The detective had on a navy pantsuit and cream-colored boots. Despite her attire, Cassie was sure the detective could take down any other person in a hundred-foot radius without breaking a sweat. She was all business as she approached Cassie. Harris called out, but the sound of her voice was drowned out by the bells ringing in the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist. Recently renovated, Cassie enjoyed the cathedral from a distance. She had no idea if the work done to the building had stirred up spir
its, and she didn’t want to find out.
“I was glad to hear from you,” the detective said.
Cassie stood and shook her hand. “Were you? I kind of got the impression you were leery of meeting with me.”
To Cassie’s surprise, Detective Harris looked sheepish. “You’re not wrong.” She took a long moment to look at Cassie, sizing her up. “I can’t quite get a read on you, Ms. Quinn. I’m not sure what to expect. That makes me uneasy.”
“You can call me Cassie.” She shrugged her shoulders. “And to be honest, you’re not the first person to tell me that.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.”
“Neither am I.”
The two women sat down on the park bench. Harris looked down at the folder in her hands but didn’t open it. When she looked back up at Cassie, all her previous vulnerability had vanished. “Before I show you what’s in here, can I ask you, why did you call me? I got the impression you didn’t want to help.”
“It was more that I wasn’t sure I could help.” Cassie shifted in her seat and looked down the length of the brick pathway that ran along the outer edge of the park. There were a few runners, the little girl and her mother walking together, and a couple of people walking their dogs. A young couple and their toddler sat on a blanket sharing a picnic. The little one perked up when he spotted a dog approaching. The weather was warm, but the breeze made it tolerable. “As I’m sure you know, these sorts of things can take a lot out of you.”
“And by ‘these sorts of things,’ you mean the murder?”
Cassie held back an inappropriate laugh. “Yeah, the murder.” The humor drained away. “But you chose this. I didn’t. I like learning about art and history and literature.”
“Yet you keep finding yourself in this position.” Detective Harris held up the folder, as if to say, you know, the murder.
Cassie shifted her gaze back to the detective. “Did you feel like detective work was your calling?”
A wistful look came over Harris’s face. “Both my father and grandfather were police officers. So were both my uncles. I never thought about being anything else.”
“Does it feel right? Do you feel like you’re right where you’re supposed to be?”
Detective Harris met Cassie’s eyes. A conviction there was tangible. The detective’s voice was firm when she responded. “Yes, I do.”
“I felt that way, too. For a while.”
“But not anymore?”
Cassie sighed. “I know you don’t believe in my abilities and you’re not convinced that what I can do is real. And I’m not sure today is going to help with that.”
“Why do you say that?”
“My abilities have been fading since Novak’s death.” It took all of Cassie’s strength to keep her voice from wavering when she spoke his name. “Honestly, I thought they had all but disappeared. That is, until you visited me yesterday.”
“Me?”
“You.” Cassie swallowed and looked back at the young family in front of her. They looked so happy. So carefree. So ignorant of what the two women on the park bench were discussing. “Last night, I saw one of the murdered women. And again, today at the museum. That’s why I called you.”
“You saw one of the murder victims?” Detective Harris’s voice was dubious.
“I don’t know who it was, but she had a huge gash across her neck, and it looked like her heart was ripped out of her chest. The timing makes me think she’s one of your victims.”
Harris didn’t bother hiding her surprise this time. “That information hasn’t been released to the public.”
“May I?” Cassie gestured to the folder in the detective’s hands, and when Harris hesitated, she dropped her hand. “I don’t mean any disrespect, but if you don’t trust me or want me involved, why did you agree to meet with me?”
“I do trust you. Or, rather, my colleagues do.” She handed the folder over. “And that’s good enough for me. For now.”
It was difficult for Harris to say that, and Cassie didn’t take this for granted. She waited a few seconds to brace herself for what she might find inside the folder. She had been down this road dozens of times, but it didn’t get easier.
Cassie held her breath as she opened the folder. She was met with a small picture of a woman paperclipped to the medical examiner’s report. Her name was Hannah Williams, and she was killed three weeks ago. When she flipped the paper up, there were several eight-by-ten images of the woman’s dead body in the woods with close-ups on the gash across her neck, and of her empty chest.
Cassie’s stomach tightened, but she kept her face calm and relaxed as she moved to the next woman. Jessica Tran. Killed two weeks ago. She had the same slash across her neck and the same wounds in her chest. Her heart had been cut out.
When Cassie turned to the third and final victim, it took her a second to recognize the face of the spirit that had been haunting her. Found dead in the woods two days ago. Her throat was slit, and her heart carved out of her chest.
Cassie pulled the paperclipped file out and set it on top of the closed folder. She read the name out loud. “Elizabeth Montgomery.”
Detective Harris’s eyebrows pinched together. “You recognize her?”
“She was the woman I saw this morning. And again, this afternoon.”
“How did you know her wounds?”
Cassie returned the detective’s gaze in silence. She was used to this part—the confusion, the discomfort, the distrust. Sometimes she was met with anger or fear. Detective Harris had landed on disbelief.
“They were hard to miss. I didn’t see them the first time. She was crouched over my bed. But when she came to me in the museum, she was standing upright. She reached out to me and tried to say something, but she made no sound.”
Harris looked confused. “She’s the third victim in as many weeks. They were all killed the same way. The department doesn’t want me to tell the press we may have a serial killer in Savannah, but the media is asking a lot of questions.”
“Are there any connections between the victims?”
“Not that we can tell.” Detective Harris’s voice became tight. “Other than that, they’re all women, they’re different ages, different races, different hair colors. Different jobs, different socio-economic statuses. Their home addresses are in different parts of the city. They have different blood types and medical histories. If I’m being honest, we haven’t been able to figure out why any of them have been targeted.”
“Crime of opportunity?” Cassie asked.
“Statistically, women make easier targets.”
“Any sexual assault?”
“No. Which tells me there’s another reason why they’re being chosen. This isn’t a typical case.”
“You came to me because you thought there was an occult element. Why?”
Detective Harris looked up at the sky, as if she were searching the clouds for answers. “It feels ritualistic to me. Their hearts were cut out. There’s a reason for that. What is it?”
Cassie stared down at Elizabeth’s face. “Is there a pattern to the days they showed up dead? Any holidays? Special dates for the victims?”
Harris returned her gaze to Cassie’s face, and her eyes were hard. “Look, I appreciate you trying to get a grasp of the case. I can tell you’ve been around the block. You’re asking all the right questions.”
“But?”
“But we’ve explored all of these options. The moon’s phases, the days of the week, solar events, everything. We’ve explored every avenue to connect these murders and there isn’t one. That’s why I came to you. I was told that you could look at the pictures of the victims and get a feeling, or whatever it is you do.”
Cassie slid Elizabeth’s photo into the folder and handed it back to the detective. “At one point in time, I could have. But Elizabeth is the first spirit I’ve seen in months, other than—”
Cassie couldn’t finish the sentence. The little boy who had disappeare
d yesterday still weighed on her, as did Elizabeth’s ghost. She resigned herself to solving one murder, not two. One more case and she could be free of this life. But it was starting to feel like that was not going to happen.
“I’m not getting any readings from the pictures,” Cassie said. “I don’t feel anything at all.”
“Does that mean something?”
“Maybe.” Cassie tried to remember if there’d ever been a time when her abilities were blocked like this. Had she ever felt a void like the one she was feeling now? “But I don’t think so. I might not be the person to help you solve this case.”
When Harris spoke again, her words felt like a sledgehammer against Cassie’s heart. “I see.”
“I’m sorry.” Cassie stood up, and the detective mirrored her movements. “I wish I could help.”
“That’s it?” Detective Harris’s disappointment was soon replaced with a mask of professional courtesy. “I understand. I assume you know not to share any of this information with anyone else?”
Cassie felt guilty. But unless Elizabeth found her voice, Cassie had nothing else to go on. “If I come up with anything, I’ll let you know.”
For a second, it looked like Detective Harris was about to tell her not to bother. Instead, she stuck out her hand. “I’d appreciate it.”
Cassie shook the detective’s hand and watched her walk away with the folder of victims clutched in her grasp. Cassie thought she might feel a sense of relief. She reached out to the detective and she tried her best.
But really, she’d done nothing at all.
Eleven
The dying sun brought him a sense of purpose. This was a rebirth. As night fell, opportunity rose. He wasn’t the type to waste time on fear or hesitation, so he pushed through the door just as his phone chimed to signal sundown.
With the bucket in one hand and the small container in the other, he bounded down the stairs and out to his side yard, hustling to the third marker from the left. He had already calculated the distances between each burial spot to make sure they were equal. The preparations had been made months ahead of time. He had thought of everything.
