The Killing Sands

by Rick Murcer

  Tired and hot and pissed, Wendy fumbled in her purse for her key, shoved the door open with her foot, and dumped the beach baggage on the floor. “Christy! Are you here?” No reply.

  Feeling a twinge of alarm, Wendy decided to get a shower, get something to eat, and then try her friend's cell phone again. She walked into the bathroom…vomited, then ran screaming into the parking lot.

  * * * * *

  Blinds open to let in the afternoon light, Lenore was feeling pretty chipper so was watching TV when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw her weird new neighbor trotting towards the lobby, again looking in all directions as if being chased…

  …Erin decided to take the dogs down to the beach for a walk. Maybe work out some of the lingering sadness she still felt about her day on the job. Both Jinx and Bo were anxious to get out in the fresh air so Erin held their leashes close as she waited for the elevator.

  The bell dinged and she started to go in as Luki Hasan flew out…right into the snarling face of the huge German shepherd.

  Scared shitless, Luki kicked at Jinx and, instead, connected with the side of Bo's leg. The old mutt let out a yelp of pain and that's all it took for Jinx to go into attack mode.

  Pulling back on the leash as hard as she could, Erin screamed, “You goddamn jerk!”

  Luki responded with a “Go to hell!” and hurried to his front door, never noticing that Jinx had ripped a hole in his bloody sweatshirt.

  Erin was shaking like a leaf as she tried in vain to calm the dogs. Bo was limping in circles and Jinx was frozen in place with a piece of cloth clenched in her jaws.

  “Come on, kids. Let's go back inside and settle down.” Erin herded them into her living room, sat on the couch, and took deep breaths. As a vet, she knew Bo wasn't hurt too badly, but she was livid. “It's okay,” she whispered to the dogs and patted them both, telling them how good they were. She held her hand under Jinx's mouth and said, “Drop it, girl.” Jinx did…but not before she started growling again.

  * * * * *

  Scott sat down next to Wendy Stephens and placed a blanket over her quivering shoulders. “Hey there. I want you to come with me downstairs. Can you do that?”

  Wendy nodded but didn't move an inch.

  As the small room was filling up quickly with cops, emergency personnel, and the motel's manager, all waiting for the medical examiner and all chattering like hungry squirrels, Scott needed to remove the girl from the scene as soon as he could.

  So he asked her again and, this time, Wendy rose and—like a zombie—walked out the door, Scott hovering like a protective father. He'd seen the horrifying mess in the bathroom so he couldn't even imagine what she'd felt upon discovering her roommate strung up—twisting and bleeding—like a butchered hog.

  Hanging from the shower curtain rod by her hair, Christy Anderson's face and breasts were hacked to pieces by knife wounds. “Whore” was carved across her belly, mingling with the lower intestines that had emerged from the deep cuts. Blood poured down the back of her legs from where she'd been brutally sodomized and Scott almost got sick thinking about it.

  He gently guided Wendy to the motel's courtyard, got her seated at a table by the pool, and said, “If you're up to it, please tell me what you know. Every little detail.”

  Friday, March 23 - 10PM

  Scott sat down in the lounge chair and gazed at the dark ocean. What a crap day, he thought as he rubbed Jinx's ears.

  Having already seen the evening news, Erin brought him a beer. “You okay, honey?”

  “Christ, babe, this is almost unbelievable. Two dead women in two days, the media is already crucifying us because we haven't caught the shithead yet, so John's tearing his hair out, and with spring breakers coming out of the woodwork…” Scott shook his head and pulled Erin down beside him.

  “Need I ask if you're home for the night?”

  “Let's put it this way. I'm planning on it, but I guess it depends upon our perp.” Scott squeezed her hand. “But there's nothing I'd rather do than get a hot shower, curl up beside you, and sleep.”

  “Sounds fine, but do you want something to eat first?” Erin asked.

  “Not really. Guess I should, though. Got any nachos?”

  “Sure. I'll be right back. Oh, and I hate to stress you out any more than you already are, but wait till I tell you what happened with that creep next door.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Saturday, March 24 - 7AM

  Kaitlyn Prentice packed her Toyota with all the stuff she'd need over at the beach. The 17-year-old daughter of Orlando's mayor was not about to miss out on the spring break action, even if it meant sneaking out of the house before her parents woke up.

  Knowing they'd be seriously pissed off—especially her dad—Kaitlyn left a note, texted five of her friends and told them she'd be at the Cocoa Beach Pier in an hour or so.

  Cruising the highway, she amped up the CD player and sang merrily along with Lady Gaga. This was going to be such a super day, she thought, as she reached the county line.

  * * * * *

  Scott woke up with a massive headache after tossing and turning most of the night. He'd kept thinking about the murdered young women, about the killer still running loose…and about the second encounter Jinx had had with Erin's new neighbor. Something had burrowed into his brain and stayed there.

  Dressing quickly, he motioned to the dogs and headed for the beach, hoping Erin didn't wake up. He needed to sort his thoughts the only way he knew how…he'd have a talk with his God while the sun rose over his beloved ocean.

  * * * * *

  Erin was sitting at the table reading the gory details of the two murders in the morning paper when Scott returned with the hungry dogs, who immediately dashed over to their breakfast.

  “Morning, sweetie,” she said without taking her eyes off the printed page. “Get yourself some coffee, then come read this before you go.”

  Scott sat down. “Just tell me the bottom line. Are they calling in the militia yet?”

  “No, but they're making noises about the FBI, for God's sake.”

  “Well, ya know. We probably could use the help.” Scott frowned, then said, “But, I was thinking…that weirdo next door. He moved in what? Thursday?”

  Erin nodded. “Yeah, pretty sure that's when.”

  Scott continued, “And Amy Blair was killed sometime overnight Thursday. Then yesterday, Christy Anderson. And I know there are a gazillion strangers in town now, but Jinx has really gone nuts the two times she's seen this dude.”

  Erin took off her reading glasses, a quizzical look on her face. “Honey, where are you going with this?”

  Scott held up his hand. “Bear with me a minute. What did you do with that piece Jinx tore off the asshole's shirt?”

  “I threw it in the laundry room wastebasket 'cause she was very upset. Honestly, I had a really hard time making her give it to me.” Erin's big brown eyes got bigger. “Oh, God, are you thinking what I think you're thinking?”

  Scott got up and said, “I'm going to go look at that cloth, but I'll close the door, so Jinx should be fine. Just stay here with her and Bo for a sec.”

  Five minutes and a cell phone call later, Scott poked his head out from the laundry room and told Erin he needed a couple Ziplocs. Another minute later, he came out and said, “Babe, I gotta go. Like, now, before Jinx gets a whiff of this. I'll call you from the lobby and explain.”

  Before Erin had a chance to say a word, he was out the door.

  * * * * *

  Luki pulled out of the parking lot and drove toward the pier. He knew he was probably a bit early but his adrenaline was pumping. Until he'd totally released his inner anger over the useless death of his sister, he would not—could not—rest. Gunning the engine, his tires squealed down Ocean Beach Blvd.

  * * * * *

  Lenore watched the Cadillac roar down the road. Thinking that she really should tell someone about what she'd seen in the past few days, she fell asleep.

  * * *
* *

  Scott called upstairs and Erin answered before the second ring.

  “For starters, I'm glad you don't have to work today because I want you to stay close to home, okay?”

  Erin stood on the balcony, staring at the ocean, and said, “I can do that. But mind telling me why? I mean, you're scaring me.” A pelican flew right over her head and she jumped like she'd been shot.

  “The reason Jinx went bonkers over that cloth is because it's covered in blood and I need to get it to John ASAP.” Scott's headache was getting worse. “So not only do I not want to worry about you, but neither do I want that freak to hurt Jinx if y'all were to run into him again. Got it?”

  “I got it. Loud and clear.”

  “Good,” Scott said. “Another thing. Do you have your property manager's number? I don't want to talk to anyone yet, but I'd like to have it handy.”

  “Hold on.” Erin rummaged through her files and found her leasing agreement. “Here it is.”

  Scott wrote down the information, started the Tahoe, and told Erin again to stay put. Gunning the engine, his tires squealed down Ocean Beach Blvd…in the opposite direction from the one Luki Hasan had taken in search of his next piece of ass.

  * * * * *

  John Patterson was exhausted. But he sat at his desk and listened patiently to Scott's theory that the murders and Erin's new neighbor were connected.

  After his best detective had spilled his guts, John said quietly, “I don't know, Scott. Kind of a flimsy thread but we'll definitely check out the blood type. Yet, if you think about it, Jinx could very well have bitten the guy and that's where the blood came from.” He sighed and shook his head. “Hard to say, as we certainly can't go ask this man to give us a sample.”

  “Damn it!” Scott pounded his fist on the desk. “I know Jinx didn't bite him, not from the way Erin described what happened. Damn it! Damn it!”

  “Hey. Don't give up yet. Let's just take this one step at a time. I got the lab tech working on it, even though she's bitching up a storm because it's Saturday and she wanted to go down to the pier.”

  “Well, on that cheery note, here's an idea.” Scott fingered the tiny piece of bloodied shirt that he'd cut off and stuck in his pocket. “How about I canvas the Sea Side residents and see if any of them have noticed anything suspicious lately?”

  John smiled. “Good thought. Since we have zero leads, both the chief and the mayor are having extreme panic attacks. Especially with the Easter surf festival in two weeks.”

  Scott got up and said, “Christ, I totally forgot about that. Bet the sponsors are having fits, too.”

  “That's an understatement. Anyway, let's go pound pavement. Unless you need some help, I want to talk to Wendy Stephens again. She was pretty out of it yesterday.”

  “Can't blame her. Hell, wonder if she's still in town…” Scott looked at his boss. “Okay, let's hit the streets.”

  Saturday, March 24 - 10AM

  Kaitlyn Prentice was on a serious high. Aside from the joint she and her friends had shared in the confines of her car, she was basking in the glow of the sun, sand, and surf.

  As a politician's daughter, Kaitlyn always felt like she was under a public microscope. Here, on the beach, she was just another young girl out for a good time. Grinning from ear to ear, she chatted with all the guys who stopped by her “spot” to say hello…and ogle her huge breasts that she'd done little to conceal.

  After a geeky nerd had gotten her “not interested” message, Kaitlyn noticed an extremely handsome man sitting not far away, silently watching. Figuring he was a bit older—therefore, more mature—than most of the crowd, she gave him a rueful smile and a shrug. As if to say, “What can I do? I know I'm beautiful.”

  Luki Hasan smiled back and winked.

  * * * * *

  Scott went by to check on Erin and the dogs before he began the painstaking chore of knocking on doors. He'd also taken an official statement from her, knowing that would be the easiest one he got from the Sea Side residents.

  Thank God, this is a ritzy place and there are only twenty condos, Scott thought as he walked down the emergency stairs. Plus, he realized he had to ask fairly general questions so as not to alarm anyone…or to alert the suspect he was investigating.

  After no responses until he got to the fifth floor, Scott was getting frustrated. Wondering if this was a waste of time, he nevertheless continued to ask those he found at home if they'd noticed anything suspicious lately. Told them he was just following procedure because of Sea Side's close proximity to the recent murder scenes. He got absolutely nowhere with the few he talked to until he reached the second floor, where a very old lady invited him in. Lenore Rosenberg, after all, had a lot to say.

  * * * * *

  Hasan had found the perfect place to dispose of his gore-covered gloves, wash his hands and knife, and otherwise clean up before heading to the condo: the Banana River. As this waterway was lined with a myriad of access ramps, Luki had discovered a semi-hidden path not far from the pier, one lined with weeds as tall as he was that suited his purposes just fine. This time, he'd left a body there, too.

  But no way was he going to toss his only trophy, the blood-stained sweatshirt. He'd put it in the garbage bag he kept under the bed with the two others he'd stashed, as the smell was a great comfort to him. He'd also take great pleasure in keeping this slut's fluids since she thought she was so high and mighty. Even as he slashed her to ribbons, she kept on mewling something about her daddy being fucking important. As if he fucking cared.

  Checking the time, Luki decided to swing by the next fast-food drive-through he saw. Having skimped on meals for the last few days, he was suddenly famished so a rare hamburger dripping its juices down his chin was something he now craved more than chopping up another whore.

  * * * * *

  Sitting on the edge of his seat, devouring Lenore's words with every fiber of his being, Scott was jolted out of focus by the buzzing of his cell phone. John was calling.

  “Excuse me a moment, Mrs. Rosenberg,” he said. “I really need to take this.”

  “Of course, Detective McBride.” Lenore flicked her fingers towards the kitchen. “Take it in there. I'm not going anywhere.”

  Gone for a mere minute, Scott returned to the chair by the window and told the elderly woman he'd have to be leaving soon. A press conference was scheduled and his presence was required. But, if it was okay with her, he'd return later in the afternoon to finish their talk.

  Lenore beamed and assured the young detective that was not a problem. That she was very glad someone had shown up who had the same concerns she did about “that weird new guy.” That maybe they could have a glass of brandy together.....

  .....Checking his surroundings, Luki hurried toward the lobby and stopped cold. For there, in a second-floor window, he saw the guy who owned the dog, chatting in earnest with some old bitch. On high alert, he darted through the door and raced up the stairs, not wanting to be seen waiting for the elevator. His heart pounding faster than his steps, his only thought was that he was running out of time.

  Saturday, March 24 - 1PM

  Hank Harris, the mayor of Cocoa Beach, stood in front of the cameras sweating bullets. Alongside him, the chief of police looked just as nervous; behind him, Scott and John stared grimly at the media and the gathering crowd.

  After the usual platitudes that law enforcement was doing everything within their power to apprehend the perpetrator of the recent murders, Harris turned to Patterson and introduced him, inviting him to add his comments. John reiterated what the mayor had said, thanked everyone for their patience, and turned away before the news crews could pepper him with questions he had no answers for.

  Scott followed him and thought that, on a scale of one to ten, this particular press conference was a big fat zero.

  * * * * *

  Sitting in John's office, Scott grabbed a cup of coffee for both of them. “Well, that went well,” he said.

  John sighed. �
��I tried to talk the idiot out of it but you know politicians. But, on the bright side, we may have a bit of a lead.”

  Scott was all ears. “Yeah? And it is?”

  “Well, the lab tech had already typed the blood from the two victims. Then she did the piece of shirt you brought in this morning and there was a match.”

  “I knew it!” Scott almost yelped.

  “Hold on now.” John picked up the lab report from his desk and handed it to Scott. “It seems that Christy Anderson is AB-negative, which is fairly rare. And what the tech got off the shirt was the same.” He hesitated and took a sip of coffee. “It's still a stretch, but your instincts were good, Scott. At least now we have a reason to give this guy a closer look.”

  “Well, after you hear what one of the Sea Side residents told me, we may be able to get a whole lot closer.”

  * * * * *

  Hasan sat on his balcony, staring at nothing. The “dog guy” had him worried as he could not figure out what the man was doing. From the first time he'd seen him, Luki had him pegged as the redhead's lover. But now he was wondering if there was more to him than met the eye. And what was with that fucking dog?

  Then, as the sun began its slow decline to the west, it dawned on him. The bastard might be a cop.

  Since Luki had no idea of who was who in this stupid little town, he had no way of knowing anything about its police force. Fuck! Just what he needed. A yokel Dirty Harry wannabe hanging out right next door and getting suspicious at that.

  Calm down, he told himself. Lana's revenge isn't over yet. One more…at least one more. And maybe this time he'd get an erection, something he'd never had before. Terrified of sex due to his father and his religion, Hasan had a dick as limp as a cooked noodle and that angered him, too. All everyone seemed to care about was sex and more sex. But look what it had done to Lana.