by L. T. Ryan
Setting the two containers down in the grass, he walked along the shallow trench running from his house and ending in a hole about five inches deep. The trench was still neat and orderly, and with a smile on his face, he nodded at his own handiwork. He had it all in place.
Back at the hole, he popped the lid off the small container. He took a moment to appreciate the size of the human heart. Over the years, he’d heard it was roughly as big as a fist, but this one was smaller. It was amazing to think such a small organ could keep an entire human being alive and well.
That bitter taste filled his mouth again.
So important, yet so fragile. Why had humans evolved to be so delicate? Instead of armor, they had skin. Instead of claws, they had fingernails. No horns or fangs. No venom. They weren’t large or strong or fast.
But they had brains, and that was all the advantage he needed.
Shaking himself from his own misery, he pulled the heart out and felt its cool texture against his skin. Touching a human heart for the first time had caused a chill to run down his spine. It had made him uneasy, if not squeamish. But he had moved beyond that by now and was committed to using this little organ’s power to his advantage.
He placed the heart in the hole and packed the dirt down over it. The missing grass was an obvious indicator that something had been buried there, but he wasn’t worried about anyone looking in on his small, unorthodox garden. His neighbors were miles away, and the surrounding woods ensured he’d be left alone.
Giving the mound one more pat, he turned his attention to the bucket. This part required patience and a steady hand. His eagerness to complete the next step of the ritual made him want to rush through it so he could return to the basement, but his iron will held him back.
There was no point in doing any of this if it wasn’t done right the first time around.
He peeled the lid off the bucket and peered at the crimson liquid inside. The smell was not pleasant, but he had grown accustomed to the way his new hobby accosted his senses. He had never been a weak man, and he wouldn’t start now.
Not even under the current circumstances.
The bucket strained his muscles as he lifted it, but despite the slight shaking in his arms, he poured the liquid into the trench, walking back toward the house with purposeful steps. He made sure all the blood disappeared into the dirt. Not a single drop would be wasted.
When the last of the blood left the bucket, he set the container down and watched as the earth drank up his sacrifice. He already felt lighter. Stronger. Freer.
Was there anything he couldn’t do?
Twelve
Cassie couldn’t sleep that night, compounding the effect the early morning had on her brain. She wasn’t sure if it had anything to do with the little boy’s absence, Elizabeth’s presence, or Detective Harris’s disappointment.
Or maybe it was a combination of all three.
She dragged herself out of bed. Her limbs felt like they each carried an extra ten pounds. On the upside, Elizabeth hadn’t shown up this morning and though Cassie wasn’t ruling it out, she was hedging her bets and trying to stay hopeful. She made extra-strength coffee, packed a lunch, and headed to the museum.
It was the little victories.
But by the time she made it to the breakroom for lunch, half the staff was crowded around the small TV in the corner.
Cassie found a spot between Magdalena and Jason. “What’s going on?” she whispered.
Magdalena shook her head. Jason leaned down.
“Isn’t that the detective that came here the other day?”
Cassie shifted to one side so she could see the screen better. The camera zoomed in on Harris, who stood outside the precinct surrounded by reporters. She didn’t look uncomfortable, but Cassie knew enough about the woman to realize she’d rather be solving the case than talking to the press.
Harris held up her hands and the camera zoomed in further. “As I’ve said previously, I cannot share any sensitive details about any ongoing cases. This is to protect the investigation, and the friends and families of anyone involved in a serious crime.”
“Like the murder of three young women?”
The camera panned over to a young blonde woman whose curls bounced when she talked. She was tall and imposing and Cassie had a feeling she wasn’t the least bit afraid of Harris’s demeanor. The reporter was holding her microphone out to the detective, waiting for an answer.
“Like I said,” Harris repeated, looking the woman dead in the eyes. “I cannot comment—”
The reporter didn’t let her finish. “Is it true all three women have the exact same wounds?”
Harris’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second. It wasn’t enough for most people to notice, but the reporter narrowed in on it like a hawk. She smiled like she had won a secret competition between her and the detective. She knew she had hit close to home.
“I cannot comment on the nature of our investigations. As soon as I can share any details about any of my current cases, I will be sure to inform all of you.”
The rest of the press surged forward, yelling over each other to be heard. One voice was louder than the others, and it belonged to a short man with graying hair. He wasn’t as pushy as the others, but it was clear he knew how to make himself heard.
“Does this mean we have a serial killer on our hands?”
The group of reporters fell silent. They didn’t want to miss the detective’s answer.
“Like I said—”
“With all due respect, Detective,” the man said, “people are scared. Is there anything you can tell us?”
Detective Harris sighed and looked around the crowd. For a split second, she looked into the camera, and to Cassie, it felt like Harris was speaking directly to her.
“I know everyone is scared, but please know that we’re doing the best we can. I can’t share any information with you because I don’t want to corrupt the investigation. I’m not trying to keep secrets from you. I’m trying to preserve the integrity of the investigation.”
When the voices started to shout again, she held up her hand. Cassie was impressed with the way she could command a crowd.
“My suggestion is to stay safe and vigilant, as you have always done. Don’t meet up with strangers alone, and don’t do anything that your gut tells you is too dangerous.”
The blonde reporter’s voice rose above the rest. “So, you’re telling the women of Savannah that they should be afraid for their safety?”
Detective Harris kept her eyes forward and her face neutral as she pushed her way through the crowd and got into her car. She drove off, leaving the gaggle of reporters in her wake. The cameras cut to a side-by-side of the reporter outside the precinct and two news anchors sitting behind a desk.
The breakroom erupted into several different conversations, and Cassie noticed Jane discussing the news with other employees. It seemed everyone had tuned in to the broadcast.
“Those poor girls,” Magdalena said. “They don’t deserve to be paraded through the headlines like that. Their souls won’t have any rest until that detective solves the case. Why can’t the press let her do her job?”
“The press are trying to do their jobs, too,” Cassie said, “but I don’t disagree with you.”
Jason leaned in close to Cassie. “But that is the detective who visited you the other day, isn’t it?”
Magdalena must’ve caught sight of the panic in Cassie's eyes because she gave Jason a death glare. “If Cassie doesn’t want to talk about it, she doesn’t have to.”
Jason looked so chastised that Cassie put a gentle hand on his arm. “It’s fine. Yeah, she’s the one that was here the other day. She had a couple questions, but I wasn’t able to help her.”
“And you’re sure you’re not in any trouble?” he asked.
“I’m sure. I’m safe.” Cassie gulped. “I’ll tell you more some other time. But not here.”
“Sure,” Jason said. His eyes were huge, and
Cassie felt bad about the millions of theories running through his brain. “You know where I am if you need me.”
“Thanks, Jason.” Cassie waited for him to leave. She turned back to Magdalena. “So, he asked me out yesterday.”
“And you didn’t tell me!” Magdalena hissed.
“I was going to,” Cassie hissed back. “I’ve had a lot on my mind.”
“Are you going to tell him about you-know-what?”
“I’d like to one day. Kind of a difficult thing to work around for too long. But I’ll let him buy me dinner first.”
“Smart move. Get into his pants first.” Magdalena smiled and winked and looked between Cassie and the television. Her tone turned serious. “But what did she want?”
“You know, you’re as nosy as he is.”
“Yes, but you let me be this nosy.”
Cassie couldn’t deny that. “I’ve helped out the police with cases in the past,” Cassie measured each word as she said it. “I know some people downtown, so she’s heard of me. I think they’re pretty desperate for answers.”
“I would be, too,” Magdalena said. “If they’re not careful, they’re going to have a full-blown panic on their hands.”
“I think that’s what the detective is worried about,” Cassie said. “Sharing details about the case might make things worse.”
“Do me a favor?” Magdalena placed her hands on Cassie’s shoulders and squeezed. Her eyes wavered as she took Cassie in. “Be extra careful.”
“I always am,” Cassie said. “Trust me, I’m the last person you need to worry about.”
“Yeah, well. Crazier things have happened.” Magdalena looked at her with concern. “Sometimes it doesn’t matter how mindful you think you are.”
Cassie sighed. She knew Magdalena was right. Those kinds of thoughts could keep her up at night, but she’d been better about keeping them at bay. However, this case brought back some terrible memories.
“All right, then.” Magdalena clapped her hands together. “Are we going to try to elbow our way to a table?”
Cassie looked around the room. It was still packed, and half of the other employees were still watching the news channel. “I think I’ll eat in my office,” she said. “It’s too crowded in here.”
“All right, I’ll see you later, sweetie. Keep your head up.”
Cassie smiled and took her lunch back to her workstation. She wasn’t hungry anymore, but she forced herself to eat half of her sandwich. It was just a way to waste time though. She knew what she had to do next and, while she always enjoyed talking to the person she was about to call, she knew reaching out to him would further embroil her in the case.
She scrolled through her contacts and found his name. She hesitated, then hit the call button.
Thirteen
“Cassie? What’s wrong?”
David’s voice was gruff, but warm. He was a bear of a man whose bark was far worse than his bite, though he could still hold his own in a fight. Cassie had met him a few years ago on a gruesome case and over the years he’d gone out of his way to check on her. He sat behind a desk these days, but he was still one of the sharpest cops she knew and one of the few who believed in her gift.
“Why does something always have to be wrong?” She injected as much sweetness into her voice as possible. “Maybe I want to catch up with an old friend.”
“You never were a good liar, Cassie.” David chuckled. “But I promise my ego can handle it.”
That was another reason she liked David. He was both a professional and a friend, at least to those who hadn’t made it onto his shit list. When he was on the clock, he was all business. But when he went home to his wife and grandkids, he transformed into the gentlest soul Cassie had ever met. He and his wife had invited her over a few times, and it had always made her feel like she had family in Savannah when hers was hours away.
There was no point in beating around the bush. “I’m calling about the three women who’ve turned up dead.”
David cleared his throat. “Have you seen something? I can put you in touch with the lead detective.”
“Harris, right? Yeah, I’ve met her.”
David chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “She’s a great detective, one of the best I’ve ever seen.”
“But?”
“But her bedside manner could use some improvement.”
“I’ll have to agree with you there.” Cassie cradled her phone against her shoulder and took another bite of her sandwich. “I talked with her last night about the victims, but she seemed pretty cagey about giving me too much information. I was hoping you could fill in some of the blank spaces for me?”
David sighed. “I gotta be honest, I don’t like the idea of going behind her back. Professional courtesy.”
“I know, I know.” Cassie put her sandwich down and took a sip of water before she continued. “I don’t want to put you in a position that could get you in trouble and if I’m crossing the line here, tell me to back off. But I could use some help.”
There was shuffling in the background and David’s voice lowered to just above a whisper. “Why don’t you tell me what you know, and I’ll see if there’s anything I can add?”
Cassie sat back in her chair and stared up at the ceiling tiles above her head. “I know each woman had her throat slit and her heart removed. I know their bodies were all dumped in the woods. I also know there’s no connection between any of the victims, other than they’re women.”
“You’ve got most of the facts then.”
“Harris sought me out because she thought I had a ‘proclivity for the occult.’” Cassie paused to hear David’s reaction and was not disappointed by his amused snort. “When I started asking about possible ritualistic aspects, she shut down. Granted, she was the one who came to me about that sort of thing.”
“I don’t think the bosses are putting much credence in her theories at the moment. To be honest, she seems to be grasping at straws.”
“Do you blame her?”
David sighed. “No, I don’t. I’d be exploring every option. Including you.”
“You suggested my name, didn’t you?”
Cassie could feel his shrug through the phone.
“I did,” he said. “She had me look over the case files, but I couldn’t come up with anything she hadn’t already thought of. Other than you, of course.”
“I’m sure that was an interesting conversation.”
“She’s heard about you. Hard not to around here.”
“But I’m sure having a referral from the great David Klein didn’t hurt.”
“Now you’re trying to make me blush.” David drew a deep breath. “When she came to you, did you feel anything? See anything?”
“Not at first. But that night, one of the victims showed up.”
“Is that the first one since…”
“You can say his name, David.”
“He doesn’t deserve to have his name spoken aloud ever again.”
“Fat chance of that happening. They’re writing a book about him.” A bubble of emotion rose in her chest and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. She let it subside and spoke again. “They’ll turn it into a made-for-TV movie.”
“You sound awfully cavalier.”
It was Cassie’s turn to shrug. “I don’t know how I feel about it. I’ll never forget him, not until the day I die, but I don’t need to be afraid of him either. He’s gone. Maybe my story will help someone else work through their own trauma. Or maybe I’ll inspire the next David Klein.”
“You’re a bigger person than I’ll ever be, Cassie.” David’s chair squeaked and his voice grew quiet again. “That man deserved something worse than a needle in his arm.”
“I don’t disagree. But to answer your question, yes, it was the first new ghost to show up since Novak’s death.” Cassie felt a pang of guilt for her lie, but she hadn’t told anyone about the little boy. Not even David. “And she appeared for the first time af
ter Harris’s visit.”
“Interesting.” He sounded animated. “That’s another point for the idea that your abilities could be tied to knowledge about the victim or the crime. Maybe that ghost or whatever was hanging around Harris and sensed you could help?”
“Let’s not get into your conspiracy theories, please.” A long time ago, she gave up on guessing why she had these abilities. She took another sip of her water, trying to wash the bad taste out of her mouth. “Is there anything else you can tell me?”
David’s silence was too long to be a normal part of the conversation. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “All their blood was drained. Each one of these women were bled dry.”
“I’m guessing he did it from the gashes in their necks?”
“You guess right.”
“That lends more credence to a ritualistic killing,” Cassie said.
David blew a gust of air straight into the phone’s mouthpiece. “The person doing this is choosing women for a reason, but he’s not particular about his victims. It tells me he’s not playing out a fantasy with one person in mind.”
“So, he hates all women?”
“It’s possible. The murder is not sexual in nature. If he’s cutting their throats first, he’s not looking to prolong their deaths and make them suffer. Then again, cutting out their hearts is a pretty brutal act.”
“Does that have any kind of significance?”
“Each organ has a certain function or meaning, right? The heart symbolizes love. Or maybe it could have a specific significance to him. But without more information, there’s no way of knowing what his motive is.”
“And the way to get more information is to find more bodies.”
“Not something we’re hoping for.”
“What about where the bodies were found?”
“They were all found in the middle of the woods in different public parks. He could’ve taken them there in the dead of night, killed them, and no one would be any wiser until the morning when their bodies were found.”
