by Mark Tufo
She tried to scream, but couldn’t, her nose and mouth essentially covered and her head pulled back. She tried to kick at her assailant, but being pulled backward, she was pulled her off-center and off balance. As she was pulled back into the deepest corner, her attacker brought his mouth closer to her face and she actually shuddered at the feel of his whiskers against her face.
“Quiet and you just may live through this,” he warned in a rough voice.
She felt him reach up through her coat and grab at her and she fought for all she was worth, but the hand at her mouth tightened its hold and she soon realized that she couldn’t breathe. Buffy grabbed at his arm with both hands and pulled, but he was unnaturally strong, holding her tightly in his grip as he pulled her to the ground and twisted her head around until he got her in a choke hold. She sucked in a long, coughing lungful of air in order to scream just before he tightened his arm around her neck to cut off any noise.
“I warned you to be nice,” he growled. “Or do you want to die tonight?” He waited for an answer, but since she couldn’t speak, she shook her head. “That’s what I thought.”
He dragged her back toward her apartment and reached behind himself to fumble with the keys left hanging in the doorknob. He twisted the key and pushed the door open, dragging her in behind him.
Kicking the door closed, he left the lights off and threw her across the floor of her living room to struggle for air. Buffy crawled away as fast as she could, sucking in air and clawing for anything that she might could use to put between herself and her attacker.
“Not so fast, Blondie.” He grabbed an ankle and dragged her back toward him, sliding her skirt upward. “I’m just getting started with you.”
“What do you want?” she croaked out as he pulled her to him and sat on her legs. She held her arms across her chest, her hands up to defend her face. He grabbed them and pinned them to either side of her head.
“I’m here to send a little message to your bosses.” A sly smile crossed his features but never reached his eyes. “My bosses want your bosses to drop their case against Robinson and company.” He jerked on her arms and slammed them hard against her carpeted floor. “You think you can relay that little message?”
She trembled in the darkness, trying hard not to turn away from his rancid breath. “Yes,” she whispered in a trembling voice. “I can tell them whatever you want me to tell them.”
He chuckled then and she could feel his body shaking against her midsection as he did it. Her eyes followed down his length and saw the reflective glint of steel inside his dark leather jacket. She gasped slightly as she realized his intentions. “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” she asked in a soft still voice.
“Me?” he asked, his voice sounding so innocent for one that gargled daily with broken glass. “Not right away. First me and you are going to have some fun.” He licked along the side of her face and she felt the bile rise in the back of her throat.
She tried to buck him off of her, but he rocked back and laughed at her. “Whoa, now. Easy. Let’s not start this ride too early. Save some of that energy for when I’m ready.”
He held both of her hands in one of his and reached into his jacket. She inhaled deeply to scream and saw him pull out something long and slender. At first, her mind didn’t register what it was until he slipped it around her wrists and pulled. The high pitched zipping noise gave it away as a zip-tie just before the hard plastic bit into her skin.
He chuckled low in his throat as he rose up from her and flipped her over. “No!” she yelled and tried to crawl away but his heavy boot caught her in the side and knocked the wind from her lungs.
“Tsk-tsk-tsk. When I tell a bitch to keep quiet, I mean for her to keep quiet.” He leaned down and put his knee in the small of her back and leaned on her. “If you make me hurt you too much, you’ll suck all of the fun out of this for me and, well, neither one of us will like it then. I promise.”
Buffy fought to suck in air past her bruised ribs and cringed each time her lungs fought for a breath. She tried not to move because of his knee in her back but the pain was too much, she needed him to move. It was as if he knew where all the right places were to cause her intense pain and he was using them one right after the other. She could feel him moving around behind her, but she couldn’t move her head to see what was going on.
She tried to lay still, to prevent him from hurting her anymore, but when he started tugging on her clothes, she panicked and twisted, rolling out from under his knee.
“No!” she cried, “You will not do this.”
She brought her knee up to his groin, but he was too quick and caught it. He pushed her away and his knife was out in a flash. He held it to her throat as she lay on the floor of her apartment.
“Don’t make me gag you for this. I have plans for that pretty mouth of yours.”
He held his hand on her throat and used the knife to cut loose the buttons on her blouse and expose her bra. She shuddered and shook with fear, tears clouding her vision as the cold steel of the knife pressed against the soft flesh of her breasts. The cold hearted bastard pressed the flat of the blade against the soft, round mounds of her chest while holding her throat just to watch her reaction.
“Please, don’t do this. I’ll tell them anything you want…”
“I know you will.” His eyes never left her chest. “But first, I’m gonna make you my whore.”
The words were no sooner out of his mouth when her front door blew open, a sharp wind shot through her apartment, dust, grit and sand in the wind, biting and stinging his skin. He spat at the dirt and grit that got in his mouth and closed his eyes, bringing his arm up to deflect the stinging bits of debris that bit his face.
“What the fuck?” He couldn’t understand what happened as he stared the door. The wind died down momentarily then picked up again, this time blowing right past his head, almost as if speaking to him, saying, ‘do-o-o-o-o-o-o-n’t’ before dying down once more and settling back to the stillness of the dark.
The intruder looked around the apartment then down at Buffy who had shielded her eyes from the dirt and dust as well with her zip-tied hands. “Did you hear that?”
“Please, if you leave, I won’t call the cops. Just leave now, please. I’ll tell my bosses what you want me to—”
“Shut up, you stupid—”
He started to raise his knife when an unseen force grabbed his arm and twisted it behind him with such force that the echoes of it breaking were heard in the hallway. His screams woke up her neighbors on both sides and above her.
He was lifted so quickly and thrown to the ceiling that the sheetrock plaster was split and broken, then thrown to the floor. Buffy screamed as she crab walked to the back of her apartment and hit her head on the edge of her piano. She tried to crawl under the piano bench as the would-be rapist was continually picked up and thrown from one wall to the other, bones breaking with each impact. His screams were eventually quelled when his head was cracked on the doorjamb leading out of her apartment and he was thrown against the brick wall of her neighbor’s apartment.
The unseen force then threw him back into her apartment and pinned him to the ceiling before his intestines were spilled across her carpet, rope stretching across his four limbs and pulled through the sheetrock to be tied to the trusses behind it.
As neighbors spilled into the breezeway and eventually made their way to her apartment, one flipped on her light and found her passed out underneath her piano bench, a dead man tied to her ceiling. He quickly turned to the others, “Somebody call 911!”
*****
As the ME wheeled away the two bodies, Eckerson sidled in next to him. “Remember, Doc, mums the word ‘til we can figure out what the heck is going on here.”
“I remember. Just do try to be quick about it, will you? I can’t sit on these reports forever. I’m supposed to submit them to the DPS within twenty-four hours of discovery.” He unlocked the gurney’s legs to load them in the
van, but turned back to Eckerson. “The clock is ticking.”
“Don’t I know it.” Jeff walked back to Justin who was finishing up with the evidence recovery.
“Doc’s going to type the blood for us just to make sure it’s just the victims out here. I want to make sure there isn’t some kind of animal blood mixed in,” Jeff said.
“You thinking maybe some kind of cult thing?” Justin asked.
Eckerson shrugged. “Right now, I have no idea what to think.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “But Doc did remind me that state law requires him to report the deaths within twenty-four hours.”
“Great. I thought Scott took care of that?”
“He can only buy us so much time. I doubt even favors will risk somebody’s job.” Jeff said. “Still, if he waits until the last minute to fax it over, they won’t get it until 3AM. I doubt anybody will be manning the faxes that early. Even still, DPS will have to go through everything and have to assign somebody. It could still be days before we see any Staties out here.”
Zimmer snorted. “That is some seriously wishful thinking there, bud.”
“Maybe, but I’ll take what I can get.” Jeff looked back toward Justin’s car. “I know this sounds sick, but I’m feeling hungry. You still have those sandwiches in your car?”
“In the passenger seat. Bring me one, will you?” Zimmer asked. “I’ve got to wait for the fire department to come and hose this blood into the storm drain.”
“Are you serious? That’s evidence.”
“We’ve taken all the pictures and collected all the samples we can. It’s attracting flies and stinking like nobody’s business.” He shrugged. “What else can we do?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t think—”
The portable radio on his belt crackled to life, “504, 10-21 the SO,” Brenda called. Eckerson looked to Justin who only shrugged.
He pulled his cell phone and called the office. “Yeah, Bee, whatcha got?” His voice reflected just how tired he was feeling.
He should have known that something was up when Brenda didn’t give him a ration of hell for calling her ‘Bee’. “You’re not going to like this, Jeff.”
He groaned in the phone. “What now?”
“There’s another one.”
He hung his head low. “Send the address to my cruiser. And notify the ME to meet me there once he dumps his current cargo.” He hung up his phone and turned to Zimmer. “You are not going to believe this.”
“What?” Justin looked at him expectantly.
“Another one.”
“No fucking way…” Justin began.
The lights from the pumper truck reflected on the alleyway wall as Jeff headed out. “When you’re done here, meet me there. This is starting to get really fucking old, buddy.”
“Take Jon with you!” Justin called out.
10
Scott threw the reports down on his desk. “Three more dead bodies in one night?! Not a single piece of viable evidence and both scenes had eye witnesses?” He looked to Jason Knapp. “How is that even possible?”
Jason shook his head. “I’m reading this, but it isn’t making sense.” He turned to Justin and Jeff. “Are these jokes?”
Justin swelled up at the detective, “Don’t you be questioning me, asshole. You may be the lead dick on day shift, but I’m still the undersheriff! YOU work for ME.”
“Calm down! Both of you,” Scott ordered. “He’s right, Jason, you need to watch your tone. He’s still your superior.” Jason rolled his eyes when Scott couldn’t see him and glared at Justin. “But I’d still like to know how it is that we can have three DBs in one night with two eyewitnesses and not a single shred of evidence.”
Eckerson stepped up. “You read the report. You’ve seen the evidence, or, in this case, the lack of it.” He turned to Knapp, his day shift equivalent, “If you think you can do any fucking better, drag your fat, doughnut munching ass out to the crime scenes and do it yourself.”
“You better check yourself, grandpa, or you’re liable to find a foot in your ass,” Jason threatened.
“Any time, rookie,” Jeff said.
“Can it!” Evans yelled. “Both of you, or you’ll find yourselves on unpaid leave. Do you both understand me?” He sat down behind his desk. “The last thing we need is our own going at each other when DPS will be coming at us wanting to know the same goddam things.”
“They started it,” Jason said.
“Seriously?” Jeff looked to Scott. “How do you work with third graders? I can’t believe that, with all the extra hours Zimmer and I have had to put in, we have to listen to Captain Courageous over here.”
Scott pointed a finger at Jason. “No more warnings. One more word and you’re gone. You’re either part of the solution or you’re out of here.”
Knapp sat back and sulked. Jeff stepped between Knapp and the Sheriff. “Look, Scott, we canvassed the entire scenes. There was absolutely nothing out there. At any of them.”
“Denise and Jon were there, too. You can ask them,” Justin added.
“Like they’d know what to look for,” Evans added. “They’re too green for shit like this.”
Eckerson shook his head. “You’re selling Foo short. The kid’s a lot sharper than you give him credit for.” He opened his report and pointed to section four of page three. “Look here where I pointed out his observations. I wouldn’t have done that if they weren’t relevant.”
“I read the damn reports.” Scott pushed the report away. “But I want to know where the evidence is.” His face turned red.
“Boss!” Amber hollered through the closed door.
“What?!” he yelled back.
“Call on line two. Important.”
Scott looked at the phone and was about to yell back at her when line two lit up. He got a creepy feeling run up his back but picked up the phone. The three deputies sat back and remained quiet until he got off the phone. The sheriff’s face was almost ashen as he spoke softly and slowly. “Who bagged up the rope from the Davidson case?”
“Me and Denise. Why?” Justin said.
“The lab guys were the ones on the phone,” Scott said, still shaking his head. “Said that ‘the fibers’ we sent over were probably from an old rope from maybe a hundred and fifty years ago, but were too badly deteriorated to get anything. No blood, no DNA, no nothing.”
“What do you mean, ‘the fibers’? We bagged the whole rope. There was probably thirty foot in there,” Justin said.
“Not according to the lab. They received a bag full of old sisal fibers,” Scott said quietly, leaning back in his chair. “What the hell is going on here? Who’s monkey-fucking with our case?”
Justin gave Jeff a knowing look. Eckerson shook his head. “No. No way. I still say there’s a logical explanation.”
“What?” Scott asked.
“Nothing,” Eckerson said quickly.
“I know it sounds crazy—” Justin began.
“Because it IS crazy!” Jeff said, trying to keep his friend’s sanity from being questioned.
“But, it adds up,” Zimmer said.
“No, it doesn’t, Justin, so don’t even go there,” Jeff said quickly.
“What are you two babbling on about?” Scott asked.
“Ghosts,” Zimmer said before Jeff could stop him.
“What?” Scott asked, leaning forward again. “I don’t think I heard you right.”
“You’re right, boss, you didn’t. He’s just playing.” Jeff said as he pushed off from the table and pulled at Justin to leave. “I think the lack of sleep is playing with his mind. Lack of caffeine and all that. Come on, buddy, let’s go tuck you in.”
“Fucking great. The undersheriff thinks it’s a boogeyman out there killing people,” Jason mocked. “What should we do? Call for Scooby Doo and those potheads with the Mystery Machine to come and solve the case for us?”
Jeff sighed and shook his head. In a low voice he said, “I swear to Christ, J
ake, I’m gonna flatten that pointy fucking head of yours if you don’t stop—”
“Alright! That’s it! You!” Scott yelled at Knapp. “Get your ass on the street and write a damned ticket or something.”
“But we don’t work traffic.”
“Go!” he said, pointing to his door. Once Knapp was out of his office, he turned to Zimmer and Eckerson. “Now please explain to me how it is that my UNDERSHERIFF thinks that a spirit is doing this?” he asked incredulously.
Justin moaned, “It’s not like that, Scott.”
“Then, by all means, please explain to me what it is like.”
“It’s just…nothing in this case is making sense. No physical evidence at all. None. And all of the witnesses are seeing, well, a ghost.”
Eckerson shook his head. “He’s not saying there is a ghost, but you have to admit that it is pretty weird.”
Scott stared at the two a moment and had to remember to shut his mouth. “Gentlemen, need I remind you that we are officers of the law? We deal in REAL cases of REAL crimes using REAL evidence?”
“No, of course, not!” Justin said. “But if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck and looks like a duck…”
“Shoot the damn thing and eat it for dinner, because we catch criminals!” Scott said. “Now get your asses out there and catch this one before we have more than DPS over here breathing down our necks.”
“What do you mean by that?” Eckerson asked.
“Boys,” Scott said slowly, “we have the makings of a serial killer on our hands. Same MO, if nothing else,” he explained rather simplistically. “When you have a serial killer in your backyard, you don’t just get DPS and the Rangers, you get the fucking Feds and their black shiny SUVs and their suits and their hoity-toity attitudes. And with all of that shit, you get the press. And we DO NOT NEED THE PRESS HERE, do we?”
“No, sir, we don’t,” Justin said quietly.
“Solve this. Now.” Scott sat down heavily. “I don’t care if you have to go to Madam Rosa the fucking Palm Reader to do it. Figure out who’s doing this and convince these girls that they’re not seeing ghosts, but get it done.”
