by Kate Morris
Turning on the television to the local news channel to catch the eleven o’clock version, I took a glass of wine to the living room, utensils, and my food and ate dinner in front of it.
The blonde newscaster was bleating on about the local animal shelter and some charity drive this coming weekend. She made the usual, witty repartee with her co-anchor, a man with way too much face bronzer. His complexion was one step away from the muddy appearance of a person lying in their own coffin. I ate my sushi rolls from my favorite Japanese restaurant while they discussed the current political state of the country. Then it came up.
“On a sadder note tonight,” the female newscaster said, “a young girl has gone missing. We reported on this last night and would like to remind the public to keep an eye out for this young woman.”
They flashed a picture of Hailee in the upper right-hand corner of the screen. Then they went on to discuss her disappearance, what she was last seen wearing, where she went to school, the fact that she was the daughter of Victor Neumann, who was running for state attorney general, and that the FBI had been called in to work the case. Then they showed two more detectives; a small female dressed very unprofessionally in my opinion, and a man, who looked more like someone who belonged in an article of a hunting and fishing magazine.
“The two Cleveland police detectives have been brought in to work the case, as well. You may recognize the detectives, especially Detective Lorena Evans as the police officer responsible for the capture of Cleveland’s serial killer known to everyone as Gingerbread,” the male counterpart explained.
I knew the case well. I knew of Lorena Evans, had read everything on the Gingerbread case, of course. I hadn’t really thought to investigate her very closely. But I’d devoured the information on the Gingerbread case. Serials always followed the cases of other serials. It was a good way to keep track of cutting-edge technology and how the others were caught. Juliette Nicholson had been careless. I never would be, not like her. I’d never be caught. But this cop, this silly little detective from Cleveland of all places was here to work my case. Interesting.
I noticed that the news network did not release the information to the public that I’d left a letter at the scene of the crime. If the news channels had that information, I had no doubt they’d release it. The only thing worse than politicians was the media.
I watched as Detective Evans ran through the rain and dodged the reporters standing in front of the FBI building. I pushed the button to rewind the satellite DVR option and paused it on the spot where the cameras captured her ducking them. She was prettier than I remembered seeing her just briefly on the news during the Gingerbread case. Her dark hair was wet and pulled back into a ponytail. She wore jeans and a dark hoodie. Her badge stuck out of her back pocket. I could tell she was packing heat under that hoodie by the bulge in her back. She obviously wasn’t thrilled with speaking to the press.
Quickly finishing my meal, I went to the kitchen and brought my laptop back to the living room where I poured a second glass of red. I Googled the Gingerbread case and found a video of the final press conference. Then I watched it, waiting for Lorena to come on screen. There was something just a little off about her. She almost seemed high functioning autistic, but it could be more of an Asperger’s Syndrome kind of thing. She must have a very cunning intellect because she looked terribly young even to be a detective. As a studier of the law and the many ways to avoid a run-in with it, I knew it took a while to make detective. She never looked directly at the cameras or the reporters. She fidgeted a lot, bit her lower lip when she felt nervous, scowled when she felt cornered by an obnoxious reporter. Her big hazel eyes reminded me of an innocent, animated Disney princess character like the ones my daughter idolized as a little girl. She had a gentle vulnerability about her. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to kill her, protect her, or fuck her. Probably all three.
I knew that Juliette had jumped her bond and was still missing. I’d like to meet with her, talk with her. I’d also like to meet Detective Lorena Evans. The more I thought about it, the more the idea intrigued me. Talking with the woman that was brought in to bust me, without her knowing who she was talking to, made my fingers itch just thinking about it.
I pressed play on the television remote again and finished the news coverage of myself. Bored with the local reporters, I clicked it off when it was done. It was the usual pleas for help, notify the police, Amber Alert nonsense. They would not find Hailee until I allowed them to.
Then I went downstairs and turned on the lights. I walked down the long hallway, passing bedrooms with bunks for guests, a massive living space with a big screen t.v., and a stocked wet bar. At the end of the hall, I turned left into the utility and laundry area. The back wall held a vault-style door with a keyless entry that required a thumbprint and a six-digit code. The contractor hadn’t questioned this during the building process, not with all the loons and doomsday preppers out there. I’d simply made myself sound like one of them. It was strange what people didn’t question when money was being waved under their noses.
Once inside, I calmly walked to the girl with the huge brown eyes staring up at me. Dried tears marked her cheeks. The drugs would’ve worn off earlier in the day. I dropped her food onto the concrete floor. The room was also concrete and stone. I removed her gag.
“Why? Please, I won’t tell anyone…”
“Shut up. Don’t talk. If you talk, I’ll punish you in ways you can only imagine,” I warned.
This must have frightened her because Hailee actually stopped pleading and sat there on the floor shaking instead. Good. She would be easier than some of the others. They had required lessons to learn that I valued their silence.
“Eat,” I ordered.
Then I left the concrete bunker and went back upstairs, locking her in with her Kentucky Fried Chicken bucket of chicken and tub of mashed potatoes. There were a sink and toilet in the corner of the room, and she had access to either.
My plans for her tonight had changed once I’d watched the news. So many plans. This was usually the most exciting night when I took a woman, brought her here. However, the idea of forcing her to submit to me held little appeal. She seemed whiny and annoying now. It didn’t mean I wouldn’t still have my way with her tomorrow night or the night after, just not tonight. Her lessons in shame would have to wait.
I sat on the sofa again with my laptop and masturbated while watching the fleeting images of Detective Lorena Evans on the small screen. There was something about her that intrigued me like none had in a long time. It was a quality behind the steely intensity of her light eyes. She was tough. I could tell. But there was something innocent and vulnerable there, too. I wanted to break her toughness and explore that innocence, as well.
After hours of pouring over everything I could find about her on the internet and masturbating two more times, I began typing what I hoped would be my first of many communications with the young detective.
Chapter Nine
Jack
After dinner, they took Grace back to the apartment where they got her set up with homework, and they got themselves set up to work on the case in his room. Craig had left some supplies including a whiteboard and similar items outside their door. Jack carried it in and set it up in the makeshift office, along with the other tools of the trade.
“Good Lord, Grace,” Lorena said. “I hate geometry. Why do you have to be a little wiz and ahead of your grade in math? That’s my least favorite subject.”
“Geometry?” Jack asked as he passed through the room. “I can probably help.”
“Cool, yeah, I want Jack to help instead,” Grace said, mowing over her aunt like a John Deere tractor.
“Oh, I see how it is,” Lorena complained as she set about brewing coffee in their small kitchenette.
“You’re too bossy!” Grace gave it right back.
“What makes you think I’m not?” Jack inquired.
They both turned to stare at him. Then they also both
laughed heartily.
“Yeah, right!” Grace even added.
“I’m going to change,” Lorena announced as soon as she pressed the ‘brew’ button on the coffee maker. “I feel like I’ve been wet and cold all day.”
“Yep, that’s Portland. Cloudy is the order of the day with a light mix of rain and dreary.”
Grace laughed as he joined her at the small dinette set and worked on her math problems. The sooner she finished, the sooner she could get to bed and rest. It was a long day for all of them, but she was just a kid still and actually needed sleep, unlike her aunt who was going on a day and a half with none of it.
Lorena emerged from the other room in sweatpants and a dry hoodie. Her feet were covered in socks, too. She poured them both coffee, making Jack’s the way he liked it.
“I’m going in to work,” she announced as she placed his mug on the table.
“I’ll be in soon. I think she’s getting this,” Jack said, to which she nodded and left, closing his door behind her.
“I’m totally not getting this. I hate geometry. I’m not gonna’ build buildings or work in physics. This sucks.”
“Sometimes we have to do things that suck, Gracie,” he said with a frown, remembering earlier when he had to see Elizabeth. “It’s just all a part of growing up.”
“I don’t ever wanna’ grow up,” she joked, causing him to smile.
Jack would’ve been happy with that, too. She didn’t need to rush to grow up. No kids should. And Grace was such a sweet, naïve kid, he wished she’d stay a kid forever. He showed her how to solve for perpendicular bisectors again.
“This will help you become a more analytical person,” he informed her.
“Like you and Aunt Lo?”
“Yes, I suppose so,” he said. “Of course, your aunt is more introspectively analytical than me.”
“No kidding! I mean, she’s a total dork. Sometimes she spaces out, and I don’t know where she goes.”
Jack chuffs and said, “That makes two of us.”
He knew where Lorena went, though. He was only just saying that for Grace. She was studying something, some small nuance of whatever case they were working together, probably solving it in her nerd brain faster than an entire team of investigators.
“She’s really smart,” Grace said.
“Apparently so are you. You don’t usually do geometry until later in high school.”
She shrugged, “I like algebra, not this crap.”
“You’ve had a perfect 4.0 all year, though. Lorena says you carry that all the time, even with the tough work.”
She shrugged again and said, “It makes me mad if I can’t get something, so I push myself until I do. I don’t like getting beat by anything that someone else can do.”
“Hm,” he said, rubbing his chin. “Sounds like someone I know.”
Grace grinned devilishly, and they continued their work together. He liked Grace a lot. She was a sweet kid, innocent and kind, good with littler kids, too. His young nieces and nephews thought she was cool and bugged her whenever Lorena brought her around his family, but she never minded. As a matter of fact, Bree, his niece who was close to Grace’s age, didn’t particularly like the little kids to hang out with them, but Gracie always allowed it. Perhaps it was because she was an only child, but maybe it was just because she was being raised morally conscious and kind. Lorena was a good parent, even if she didn’t think she was.
“Jack, did something happen today that was bad?”
“What do you mean? Did you watch the news earlier or something?”
“No, I know I’m not supposed to watch the news,” she said, rolling her eyes. Lorena never wanted her watching news reports in case Grace saw her on the television at a press conference covering something horrific like the Gingerbread case. She tried to keep Gracie very far removed from her work. It seemed like a good idea to Jack, too. “I mean that you seem kinda’ upset or something.”
“Oh, that,” he said. Of course, she would pick up on the fact that Jack was upset. She was a highly intuitive kid. Hell, she was a lot like Lorena if he was being honest with himself.
“Sorry,” she said, apologizing.
“Don’t be. It’s nothing for you to be sorry about,” he said and noticed her eyes fall on her paper. “And it’s not your fault or anything you did, kid. Just adult stuff.”
“You and Aunt Lo have a fight?” she asked, her words hanging heavy in the air with untarnished suspense.
“No, no. Just had to see someone today I hadn’t seen in a long time, and it threw me off my game, messed up my usual charm and wit.”
She smiled with relief at his joke. “Who was it?” she then asked because she was still just a kid and didn’t know any better.
He grinned and said, “Ex-wife.”
“Really? I didn’t even know you were married before. Wow! What was she like? Was she pretty? Of course, she was pretty. Was she prettier than Aunt Lo?”
He chuckled and said, “That’s a lot of questions. Maybe we should send you in to interrogate suspects from now on.”
She didn’t laugh or even smile. She was waiting patiently for his answer, her blue gaze direct.
Jack frowned lopsidedly and answered, “I guess so, Grace. It’s different when you’re married to someone. You don’t see their flaws until it’s over, or at least that’s how it was for me. At one time if you’d have asked me that question, I would’ve said that Elizabeth was the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on. Now, I wouldn’t say the same.”
“Is she prettier than Aunt Lo?”
He laughed once, not wanting to answer. She stared him down. “Um, no. She’s not as pretty because I know what’s inside her.”
“What’s inside her? Does she have some sort of weird disease?”
She made him laugh a lot. She always did.
“No, not exactly. Well, sort of, if you call deceit and adultery a disease, which I would.”
Her eyes fell, “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know, Jack. She sounds like a real jerk.”
“Yes, well, she was at the end. See, Grace, that’s why you never go out with someone because he’s the best football player, or the most handsome guy in college, or because he has all the right things on paper. You find a guy because he has good qualities and character inside,” he said, touching his finger to his chest.
She smirked and answered, “Well, if you’re looking for those qualities in a guy, then maybe that’s why she divorced you.”
Jack shouted laughter and noogied the top of her head. “You are a little turd, Dorothea Grace Holcott! You’re a lot more like your aunt than you think!”
She groaned loudly, “No! Not my real name! It’s bad enough when Aunt Lo uses that. That was low, Jack.”
“And saying that I’m looking for a dude isn’t?”
“Okay, that’s true,” she agreed and looked down at her work then back up at him. “Thanks, Jack. I’ll look for a man someday that won’t be just pretty on the outside.”
“I know, kid. You know how I know?” he asked and got a shake of her head in answer. “’Cuz I’ll be right there at the door to greet him when you bring him home to meet us.”
“Us?” she asked with devilish intent. “Did I miss something else? You’ll be with Aunt Lorena when I bring home a boy for the first time?”
His cheeks burned. That wasn’t how he meant it to sound.
“What?” he stammered. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant…never mind.”
She giggled a response.
“Besides, your aunt doesn’t need my help keeping losers away. She’ll just shoot them down with one of her looks, and they’ll run for their lives.”
She laughed again but with less enthusiasm.
“I think you’ve got this now,” he said, rising and wanting to get away from her. “I’m gonna go work with your aunt. Don’t stay up too late, ‘kay, kid?”
She nodded, her eyes soft and too filled with hope for his liking. The
last thing he wanted to do was confuse Grace with thoughts of him and Lorena getting together. She was his partner. They couldn’t be together, even if he was attracted to her.
“I won’t. I’m tired anyway, and Bree wanted me to call her before we both go to bed,” she said of his niece.
“All right. Get some sleep,” he said and left her.
Bree and Grace had been hanging out a lot according to his sister. Jack was glad for them. It was hard at their ages to make friends, or so he heard from his many sisters who had complained numerous times throughout their youth about other girls, mean girls at school.
He took his mug of coffee and joined Lorena in his bedroom, only to find her dead asleep on the end of his bed. She was small, petite enough to lie sideways and still fit without having her feet hang off the edge. Her earbuds were still in her ears, and she was curled up as if she was cold. Pulling his blazer off, he covered her with it. He was hot anyway. Jack let her sleep and started working instead by himself.
There was so much to learn about this new killer who called himself Trix. It was definitely a man as they’d both assessed. He was raping, mutilating and killing women, dumping their bodies near water. Jack went to work on the whiteboard, noting where Lorena had already started on it earlier. He laid out what they knew about him and what they speculated. Then he tacked crime scene photos around the perimeter with magnets. Most of the women taken and killed were transient types, prostitutes, and people nobody would miss. Hailee was definitely not going to fit into that category.
He reviewed what they knew about Hailee and made a list on a yellow legal pad. The only thing that buzzed around in his mind was that she was Elizabeth’s step-daughter. Then it made him think about the fact that his ex had a son, too. Seeing her today was a bad idea. It reminded him of his failed marriage and losing his wife, his ideals, and for a while his faith. All he wanted was to find Hailee and get out of Portland again.
