Sentencing Sapphire

by Mia Thompson

  “No.” But it had to be. Shelly had been in Beverly Hills the day Sapphire got the recording and the Copycat had spoken about being held and tormented. This is what Shelly did to cope.

  “Qué pasa, Sapphire?”

  Sapphire sat still, feeling the old guilt invade her body. She did this; she caused Shelly, a happy college girl to become this psychopath.

  Julia hunched down and took her hand. “Please, tell me so I can help.”

  Sapphire stared at Julia. She could never tell her the whole truth, but to open her mouth would be a relief. “I hurt someone unintentionally. And now, they’re this whole different person, someone bad, because of my actions.”

  “Oh.” Julia stood and grabbed Elsa. “Es jos like with Michelle Evans when you were little.”

  “No, not like Michelle Evans.” Sapphire looked up at Julia—bless her heart—who had no idea she was talking about a killer.

  “Si. Es jos like Michelle Evans,” Julia insisted. “She didn’t get invited to your birthday party, and then she go crazy, calling you names, stealing your snack pack. And you need to do what I tell you then. Take the bruja down. You did, and she never bother you again.”

  The faintest image of Michelle Evans’s face covered in tapioca popped into Sapphire’s mind. “I don’t think throwing a snack pack will cover it this time.”

  “Si.” Julia winked proudly. “Jos like Michelle Evans.”

  When Julia pulled her boob out to feed Elsa, and started singing one of Sapphire’s personal childhood classics—Gary had a little limb—it was time to leave for court. She grabbed her stuff and walked toward Antonio who was leaning against the doorway.

  “God, she’s bad.” He shook his head at his wife’s notorious singing. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard her get a lyric right.”

  “You think this is bad?” Sapphire glanced back at Julia. “Try being a kid and wondering why you got sent to the principal’s office for singing: He’s got the whole world in his pants.”

  Antonio chortled and gave Sapphire a pat on the shoulder before she headed out. She didn’t even make it to the bus stop before her phone rang. Caller Unknown.

  Sapphire stared at the screen then answered without a word. She waited for the Copycat’s breath to sound. In that silence she realized Julia was right. It was jos like Michelle Evans. Not the snack pack part, but she had to fight back.

  “I know who you are.” Sapphire paused to let confidence fill her voice. “And I’m coming for you.”

  Instead of waiting for the Copycat to hang up this time, Sapphire did.

  She couldn’t afford to pity Shelly McCormick. The girl may have been innocent once, but not anymore. Sapphire had to stop her. The Copycat might be more brutal than she ever was as the Serial Catcher, but Sapphire had something she didn’t.

  Seniority.

  Chapter 12

  William glanced down at the blood-covered nails on the floor. Some of them popped right off while others took effort.

  If he could get the new concoction right, there would be no more need for games. But The Hunger was placing more focus on the heiress than his boiling brew.

  William sighed, he was getting nowhere and he didn’t have to look at the time to know the Hemlock was wearing off. Chrissy’s facial muscles twitched, and she was able to blink tears away. The Hunger purred inside him, urging him to go further. There were no nails left to pry. He wanted her dead now.

  William walked over to the heiress who was in great pain; her hands and feet were swollen and red from inflammation.

  “Heeph,” she begged, her tongue still thick with his poison.

  While The Hunger celebrated the plea, William held the knife in his hand and watched her lying in her own piss. He should change the sheets; they would start to reek soon. He was about to carry her to the bathroom, but then she peed out of fear, or pain, at the fifth nail.

  “Jo-n.” she whispered.

  “John?” William said, amused. Was she talking about the Vanderpilt boy? The one Sapphire had sent to distract him.

  Kill her–kill her–kill her, The Hunger chanted.

  The urge filled William and turned his five senses on high. When the dark surge ran through him, it was hard to see anything else.

  Yes, end it now.

  As William raised the knife over Chrissy’s stomach, the image of his daughter pushed through the black fog. She had done as he requested; she had killed the priest. He had to stop. He had to put down the knife in order to get his daughter back.

  His hands shook at the resistance. The blade wouldn’t move. William tried again. He raised the knife then thrust it toward Chrissy’s stomach. She let out a yelp of distress.

  The working muscles in her body trembled as William stared down at what he’d done.

  The tip of the blade had stopped right above her stomach. He’d managed to freeze the urge.

  No! The Hunger roared. Kill her now.

  The desire was strong, but William fought it. He was sweating, fighting his own muscles until he beat back The Hunger.

  William screamed and threw the knife to the floor. He marched back to his mini-lab and sat down to take control over his clenching muscles. His eye landed on the lines of tubes and the boiling bulb. He saw it. He eased another milliliter of poison into his new concoction and watched the colors turn with joy. It was the chemical reaction he’d waited for. It wasn’t to where he needed it yet, but it was a start.

  Of course, this was all in theory. William eyed the heiress, then took the concoction. He mixed it with extra strength Hemlock and walked back to Chrissy.

  “Don’t worry, I’m almost certain this won’t kill you,” William told Chrissy as he injected her.

  As soon as her body had turned to stone, he raced out the door. Sapphire was still in court and he didn’t have to leave for another hour, but if he stayed, he feared he’d pick up that knife and stab Chrissy.

  If you’re so sure about your daughter, The Hunger hissed, why can’t you bring yourself to take another look at the Polaroid in your pocket?

  William turned the key to his new Mustang and drove away before the voice forced him to go back inside.

  Deep down, he knew The Hunger was right.

  • • •

  Aston fidgeted. He hated suits, and only wore them when the chief insisted. Today he had no choice.

  He exhaled the nerves, knowing it would get worse when they called his name. Barry sat next to him with a sullen face.

  “What’s with the face?” Aston whispered. “Thought you were getting laid by Jennifer with a K.”

  “With a G, and no. All she did on our date was talk about my partner. Turns out she’s not into me, she’s into you.”

  “Idiot.”

  “No. She’s a nice girl, just not the one for me. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

  “No, whoever made this suit is an idiot.” Aston pulled on his crotch. “Seriously, do they make them like this on purpose?”

  Barry looked peeved for some reason.

  “The defense calls Detective Aston Ridder to the stand,” Mr. Goldstein said.

  His nerves riled as he walked over to the witness stand. He tried to stay calm; all he had to do was not put his foot in his mouth for ten minutes. How hard could it be?

  Aston sat down and his eyes latched on Judge Biggs’s tiny feet dangling from a booster seat. “You’re a short little fucker, aren’t you?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Detective Ridder,” Mr. Goldstein stepped up, “in your professional opinion, does it seem strange to you that this little girl is first stalked by one serial killer, then ends up killing another? Does this make it obvious that Sapphire Dubois is the Serial Catcher?”

  “No.” Aston cleared his throat. “I’ve handled the cases with the Duboises and I’ve never seen Sapphire do anything that stood out to me as odd. Every time I’ve been at their house, she spends her days doing what most rich people do… nothing.” Aston laughed at his own joke.

&nbs
p; He looked up to see a slew of stone faces and realized he was in a room full of rich people. Then he saw Sapphire. Her eyes were still locked on the table, but the corners of her mouth fought a smile. Worth it.

  The more they went back and forth, the calmer Aston felt. Mr. Goldstein brought up all the questions he knew the prosecution would ask, and Aston answered them perfectly. No, he didn’t believe Petunia Dubois had an accurate perception of the event. Yes, he was certain Sapphire was forced to kill Martin in self-defense. No, he saw no correlation between the cases of killer Vincent Parlov and Richard Martin. Yes, Bigfoot was probably real.

  The latter was Aston’s own question. He wasn’t positive how he ended up there.

  Prosecutor Pearl popped up before Mr. Goldstein’s ass even hit the seat. She looked pissed; they’d just riddled her attack plan with bullets.

  She’s got nothing, Aston thought in satisfaction.

  “Detective Ridder,” she said in such a cold voice, Aston felt like it was personal. “When you referred to Ms. Dubois earlier, you called her Sapphire. Are you on first name basis with all citizens or just select ones?”

  Prosecutor Pearl’s eyes shot daggers at him. She really hated him for some reason. She fit his old bangable mold—attractive, shoulder-length dark hair, mid-twenties. Aston only remembered about half the women he’d slept with on a good day, so maybe he had?

  “Ah, yeah I suppose I’ve been around her since last year, so—”

  “So you’ve never been romantically involved with the defendant, Detective?”

  “Ro-romantically…” Aston stammered. “I… I…” He caught Capelli’s grin from across the room. That smug fuck. He was the one who’d brought it to Pearl’s attention and that’s what he slipped on in the cafeteria.

  “Since you seem to have trouble understanding the question, let me rephrase it: Are you in love with the defendant?”

  All eyes were on Aston, while his were on Pearl and Capelli. They looked so confident, he knew they must have evidence of Aston and Sapphire together that they hadn’t turned in yet. If he lied, and they proved him wrong, he’d lose the jury’s trust completely.

  Aston swallowed again, then looked at Sapphire. “Yes, I am.”

  Mr. Goldstein groaned.

  Sapphire looked right back at him, her face a mix of puzzle and pain. He’d never said the words aloud before; never to her, never to anyone.

  Aston leaned into the microphone. “But—”

  “Thank you, Detective.” Pearl went back to her seat, her face still hard.

  The judge motioned the end of the day and Aston stayed in the stand to watch the courtroom empty.

  Mr. Goldstein walked up to him with his briefcase in hand. “You should’ve told me.”

  “I fucked her.”

  “Obviously.”

  Aston gave him a stare. “I meant today, case-wise.”

  “Yes. But it isn’t over yet.” Mr. Goldstein paused. “How’s our other plan building?”

  “Slower than a hooker’s 401K.”

  Mr. Goldstein nodded, then left. Aston stood, and realized there was still someone else in the courtroom.

  Sapphire rose from the defendant seat and looked at him. The bare room seemed vast around them.

  “You love me?”

  He didn’t know what to say, so he nodded, shrugged, and shifted his nuts.

  “You’re pathetic.”

  Aston was about to laugh, then noticed her cold expression and realized it wasn’t a joke.

  “We slept together a couple of times and you think that’s love?” Sapphire looked him up and down in distaste. “I only slept with you to keep you close. To make sure you didn’t find out who I was. And now you messed up my trial over it. You’re completely useless.”

  Aston stared at her, his formerly Grinch-like heart cracked. He felt small, foolish, and utterly humiliated.

  “Aww…” Sapphire pouted her lower lip, studying him, “you gonna cry?” Her face hardened as she threw her purse over her shoulder. “Do yourself a favor. Grow a pair and quit following me around like some lost puppy.”

  She walked toward the doors, her heels drumming against the floor. When she was gone, Aston’s legs gave out and he sat back down in the witness chair.

  His drunken father had warned him about women all his life. After Aston’s mother left, she’d been referred to only as “the cold-hearted whore” and all women that came after her as “hobbies.” Determined to avoid the hell his father had gone through, Aston had adopted his father’s unchained way of life. Then Sapphire Dubois came along and spoiled it all.

  As soon as his arms and legs worked again, Aston would call the only person that would understand him. Then he’d do exactly as she requested.

  Soon, but not yet.

  • • •

  Sapphire leaned her head back and breathed.

  The labyrinth of mirrors around her made her dizzy and nauseated. She squeezed the tranquilizer gun in her hand. Shelly McCormick would walk in any second now.

  After Sapphire left Aston in the courtroom, she had to stop and grab the wall. She had to hold onto something so she wouldn’t run back in and explain everything.

  When Aston said he loved her, the first thing Sapphire felt was warmth. Though she’d never agree with how he did it, she now understood he arrested her because he loved her and believed he was helping her.

  Then came the fear. Aston loved her. Sapphire’s father had proven that the people who loved her weren’t safe. What if he decided he wanted her to kill Aston next? What if he wanted more proof than just a Polaroid?

  She had to release Aston. She had to be brutal and when she finally got the words out, it worked. Aston looked sick to his stomach.

  Once she forced herself out of the courthouse, she tried to focus on Shelly McCormick. She’d parked outside of the McCormicks’ house in San Diego and made the call.

  “Hello?” Miriam McCormick answered.

  “Yah, hi,” Sapphire pretended to chew gum. “I’m a friend of Shelly’s from kkrrrssshh,” she faked static for cover up. “And, she’s not answering her cell, sooo you know where she is?”

  “Mooom!” Miriam shouted, puncturing Sapphire’s ear drum. “Did you see Shelly?”

  “Shelly?” Mrs. McCormick shouted. “God only knows, Miriam!”

  Sapphire was about to hang up when Miriam spoke again. “Try the fairgrounds. Her friends came by looking for her earlier because they wanted take her, but she wasn’t… here.”

  Miriam sounded sad and it hurt Sapphire to listen to her. The abduction’s aftermath couldn’t have been easy for the family.

  “Thanks.” Sapphire hung up.

  She Googled the fairgrounds and made it there within fifteen minutes. After scouting the carnival, Sapphire caught a glimpse of Shelly and her friends as they headed for the House of Mirrors.

  Sapphire pulled out her tranquilizer gun, and secured the red-feathered dart as she hurried to beat them inside. With the confusion of the mirrors and illusions, she could tranq Shelly and sneak her out without the friends noticing. It would be easy; they seemed pretty drunk already.

  She slid inside the labyrinth and hid behind one of its many mirrors of the third room, waiting for Shelly to arrive.

  The group’s loud shouts bounced between the mirrors and as they entered, Sapphire struggled to keep up with Shelly’s image. Sometimes, she thought she had her, then realized it was her own image. That’s how much they looked alike.

  Sapphire slid behind mirror after mirror, watching herself go from tall, skinny, fat, and short in seconds. Somewhere in the confusion, she lost Shelly.

  She launched into a revolving mirrored door that took her to the next section. She stepped out to find silence and another mirrored room.

  Every time she moved, hundreds of Sapphires showed up at every angle, getting smaller and smaller.

  “Is that a tranquilizer gun?” A voice echoed between the mirrors.

  Sapphire did a repeated 360 until sh
e found an image that wasn’t hers.

  Shelly.

  “Yes,” Sapphire said. She wasn’t sure where Shelly was, only that her image was reflected from the mirrors to the left. She moved cautiously, clenching the gun.

  “Who the hell brings a tranquilizer gun to the House of Mirrors?”

  “Gotta protect myself. Some people are just plain crazy.” Sapphire followed an image, trying to calculate where the body was. She saw movement and launched at it, only to find another image of Shelly.

  “True,” Shelly’s voice echoed to Sapphire. “That’s why I bring this.”

  Sapphire looked up, then turned around. Shelly McCormick stood behind her, ten feet away, waving a stun gun.

  “Not every girl owns a stun gun.” Sapphire kept an eye on it as she pretended to hold the tranq-gun casually. She was ready to pull it up the moment Shelly made a move.

  “Not every girl owns a tranquilizer gun.” The corner of Shelly’s mouth drew to a smile and Sapphire analyzed it. Shelly looked at her with zero recognition. A good acting job.

  Then her nose crinkled and her head cocked at Sapphire. “Do I know you?”

  To act like a novice while planning your defense was something Sapphire learned from her old MMA instructor. Shelly was trained by the same private instructor. It turned out he was the religious serial killer who stalked Sapphire and tortured Shelly, but still, they both knew how to throw down.

  Sapphire didn’t change a muscle in her expression as she brought her finger to the trigger. “I don’t know, do you?”

  “Oh my God.” Shelly covered her mouth. “You’re that girl, the one who was with the cop when I was rescued… Sabrina?”

  “Sapphire.” She stared at her.

  Shelly stood still for a second, then ran toward her. Sapphire pulled her gun up, but Shelly’s arms encircled her before she could get an angle. She squeezed Sapphire hard, taking her breath.

  Then came the sob. It took Sapphire a beat to realize Shelly wasn’t attacking her. She was hugging her. The girl sniffed and snarled into her collar in a full bawl. “Thank you.”