by Blake Pierce
For years, he had avoided humans. They were scary, more violent and uncontrollable than animals. He loved animals. Humans, however, he discovered to be more potent sacrifices for the All Spirit. After the girl’s death, he’d seen the sky open, and the shadowy image of the Great Creator had looked at him and said: More.
His reverie was broken by a snapping voice.
“You daydreaming again?”
A grumbling worker stood overhead with a scowl on his face. He had the face and body of a former football player. A sharp blue suit did little to diminish his ferocity.
Meekly, he lowered his head. His shoulders slightly hunched, and he transformed into a forgettable, diminutive worker.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Peet.”
“I’m tired of the apologies. Get me those figures.”
Inwardly, the killer smiled like a laughing giant. At work, the game was almost as exciting as his private life. No one knew how special he was, how dedicated and essential to the delicate balance of the universe. None of them would receive an honored place in the realm of the Overworld. Their everyday, mundane, earthly tasks: dressing up, having meetings, pushing money around from place to place—were meaningless; it was only meaningful to him because it connected him to the outside world and allowed him to do the Lord’s work.
His boss grumbled and walked away.
Eyes still closed, the killer imagined his Overlord: the shadowy, dark figure that whispered in his dreams and directed his thoughts.
A song of homage formed on his lips, and he sang in a whisper: “Oh Lord, oh Lord, our work is pure. Ask and I give you: More.”
More.
CHAPTER FIVE
Avery had a name: Cindy Jenkins. She knew the sorority: Kappa Kappa Gamma. And she was fully aware of Harvard University. The ivy league school had rejected her as an incoming freshman, but she’d still found a way to soak in Harvard life throughout her own college career, as she’d dated two boys from the school.
Unlike other colleges, the sororities and fraternities of Harvard weren’t officially acknowledged. No Greek houses existed on or off campus. Partying, however, happened regularly at multiple off-campus houses or apartment complexes under the name of “organizations” or specialized “clubs.” Avery had witnessed firsthand the paradox of college life during her own college tenure. Everyone pretended to be solely focused on grades until the sun went down and they transformed into a bunch of wild, partying animals.
At a red light, Avery performed a quick Internet search to discover that Kappa Kappa Gamma rented two areas on the same block in Cambridge: Church Street. One of the locations was for events, the other for meetings and socializing.
She drove over Longfellow Bridge, past MIT, and hung a right onto Massachusetts Avenue. Harvard Yard appeared on her right with its magnificent red brick buildings set among a forest of trees and paved pathways.
A parking spot opened on Church Street.
Avery parked, locked the car door, and lifted her face to the sun. It was a warm day, with temperatures in the high seventies. She checked the time: ten thirty.
The Kappa building was a long, two-story structure with a brick facade. The first floor housed a number of clothing shops. The second floor, Avery guessed, was reserved for office space and sorority operations. The only designation next to the second-floor buzzer was the blue fleur-de-lis symbol of Harvard; she pressed it.
A scratchy female voice came on the intercom system.
“Yeah?”
“Police,” she growled, “open up.”
Silence for a moment.
“Seriously,” the voice replied, “who is this?”
“It’s the police,” she said in earnest. “Everything is fine. No one is in trouble. I just need to speak with someone in Kappa Kappa Gamma.”
The door buzzed open.
At the top of the steps, Avery was greeted by a sleepy, haggard girl in an oversized gray sweatshirt and white sweatpants. Dark-haired, she appeared hard-partying. Wisps of hair hid most of her face. There were dark circles under her eyes, and the body that she normally took so much pride in accentuating appeared thick and formless.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“Calm down,” Avery offered. “This has nothing to do with sorority activities. I’m just here to ask a few questions.”
“Can I see some identification?”
Avery flashed her badge.
She sized up Avery, inspected the badge, and stood back.
The space for Kappa Kappa Gamma was large and bright. The ceiling was high. A number of comfortable tan couches and blue bean bags littered the area. Walls had been painted dark blue. There was a bar, a sound system, and a huge, flat-screen TV. The windows were nearly floor to ceiling. Across the street, Avery could see the top of another short apartment complex, and then the sky. A few clouds rolled by.
She guessed her college experience was a lot different from that of most of the girls in Kappa Kappa Gamma. For one, she had paid for school herself. Every day after classes she went to a local law firm and worked her way up from a secretary to an honored paralegal. She also rarely drank in school. Her father had been a raging alcoholic. Most college nights, she was either the designated driver or in the dorm studying.
A burst of hope flashed on the girl’s face.
“Is this about Cindy?” she asked.
“Is Cindy a friend of yours?”
“Yeah, my best friend,” she said. “Please, tell me she’s all right?”
“What’s your name?”
“Rachel Strauss.”
“Are you the one that called the police?”
“That’s right. Cindy left our party pretty drunk on Saturday night. No one has seen her since. That’s not like her.” She rolled her eyes and offered a slight smile when she added, “She’s usually very predictable. She’s just like, Ms. Perfect, you know? Always to bed at the same time, same schedule that never changes—needs like, five years’ notice for any changes. Saturday she was crazy. Drinking. Dancing. Threw the clock away for a while. It was nice to see.”
A distant gaze took Rachel for a moment.
“She was just, really happy, you know?”
“Any particular reason?” Avery wondered.
“I don’t know, top of her class. Has a job lined up for the fall.”
“What job?”
“Devante? They’re like, the best firm in Boston. She was an accounting major. So boring, I know, but she was a genius when it came to numbers.”
“Can you tell me about Saturday night?”
Tears came to Rachel’s eyes.
“This is about Cindy, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Avery said. “Maybe we can sit down?”
Rachel crashed on the couch and cried.
Through sobs, she tried to speak.
“Is she all right? Where is she?”
It was the part of the job Avery hated the most—talking to relatives and friends. There was only so much she was allowed to discuss. The more people learned about a case, the more they talked, and that talk had a way of getting back to the perpetrators of crimes. No one ever understood that or cared in the moment: they were too distressed. All they wanted were answers.
Avery sat beside her.
“We’re really glad you called,” she said. “You did the right thing. I’m afraid I can’t talk about an ongoing investigation. What I can tell you is that I’m doing everything in my power to find out what happened to Cindy that night. I can’t do it alone, I need your help.”
Rachel nodded and wiped her eyes.
“I can help,” she said, “I can help.”
“I’d like to know everything you remember about that night, and Cindy. Who was she talking to? Was there anything that stood out in your mind? Comments she made? People that took an interest in her? Anything about when she left?”
Rachel broke down completely.
Eventually, she raised a hand and nodded and pulled herself together.
&nbs
p; “Yeah,” she said, “sure.”
“Where is everyone else?” Avery asked as a distraction. “I thought sorority houses were supposed to be packed with hungover girls in Kappa gear.”
“They’re at class,” Rachel said and wiped her eyes. “A couple of girls went out to get breakfast. By the way,” she added, “we’re not technically a sorority house. This is just a place we rent to crash when we don’t want to go back to our dorm. Cindy never stayed here. Too modern for her. She has more of a ‘homey’ air.”
“Where does she live?”
“Student housing not far from here,” Rachel said. “But she wasn’t headed home on Saturday night. She was supposed to meet up with her boyfriend.”
Avery’s senses heightened.
“Boyfriend?”
Rachel nodded.
“Winston Graves, big-time senior, rower, asshole. None of us ever understood why she dated him. Well, I guess I did. He’s handsome and comes from tons of money. Cindy never had any money. I think, when you don’t come from money, it’s really appealing.”
Yeah, Avery thought, I know. She remembered how the money and prestige and power of her previous law firm job had made her believe she was somehow different from that scared and determined young girl who had left Ohio.
“Where does Winston live?” she asked.
“In Winthrop Square. It’s really close to here. But Cindy never made it. Winston came over early on Sunday morning looking for her. He assumed she’d just forgotten about their plans and passed out. So we went to her house together. She wasn’t there, either. That’s when I called the police.”
“Would she have gone anywhere else?”
“No way,” Rachel said. “That’s not like Cindy at all.”
“So when she left here, you’re sure she was headed over to Winston’s house.”
“Absolutely.”
“Was there anything that might have changed those plans? Anything that happened to her early in the evening, or even at the end?”
Rachel shook her head.
“No, well,” she realized, “there was something. I’m sure it’s nothing, but there’s this boy that’s had a crush on Cindy for years. His name is George Fine. He’s handsome, tough-looking, a loner, but a little weird, if you know what I mean? Works out and jogs around campus a lot. I had a class with him once last year. One of our jokes was that he’s been in a class with Cindy nearly every semester since freshman year. He’s been obsessed with her. He was here Saturday, and the crazy thing is, Cindy was dancing with him, and they even kissed. Totally not like Cindy. I mean, she’s dating Winston—not that they have the perfect relationship—but she was really drunk, and raging. They kissed, danced, and then she left.”
“Did George follow her out?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Honestly. I don’t remember seeing him after Cindy left, but that might be because I was totally wasted.”
“Do you remember what time she left?”
“Yeah,” she said, “at exactly two forty-five. Saturday was our annual April Fool’s Night party, and we’re supposed to play this great joke, but everyone was having so much fun we forgot about it until Cindy left.”
Rachel lowered her head. Emptiness filled the air for a while.
“Well look,” Avery said, “this has been really helpful. Thank you. Here’s my card. If you can remember anything else, or if your sorority sisters have something to add, I’d love to hear about it. This is an open investigation, so even the smallest detail might give us a lead.”
Rachel faced her then with tears in her eyes. And as the tears began to roll down her cheeks, her voice remained calm and steady.
“She’s dead,” she said, “isn’t she?”
“Rachel, I can’t.”
Rachel nodded, and then she cupped her face in her hands and completely broke down. Avery leaned over and hugged her tight.
CHAPTER SIX
Outside, Avery turned her face to the sun and breathed out a heavy sigh.
Church Street was busy, and there were numerous storefront cameras. Even in the middle of the night, she couldn’t believe it was where the abduction had taken place.
Where did you go? she wondered.
A quick check on her phone revealed the easiest route to Winthrop Square. She took a stroll up Church and turned left on Brattle. Brattle Street was wider than Church, with just as many shops. Across the street, she noticed the Brattle Theatre. A small alley was on one side of the building, buttressed by a coffee house. Trees hid the area in shadows. Curious, Avery crossed over and entered the narrow strip between buildings.
She moved out onto Brattle again and checked every storefront within a one-block radius on both sides of Church Street. There were at least two stores with cameras outside.
She headed into a small smoke shop.
The bell on the door clanged.
“Can I help you?” said an old, white hippie with dreadlocked hair.
“Yeah,” Avery said, “I notice you have a camera out front. What kind of range do you get on that thing?”
“The whole block,” he said, “both directions. Had to install it two years ago. Goddamn college students. Everyone thinks these Harvard kids are so special, but they’re just a bunch of assholes like everyone else. For years they’ve been smashing my windows. Some kind of college prank, right? Not for me. You know how much those windows cost?”
“Sorry to hear that. Listen, I don’t have a warrant,” she said and flashed her badge, “but some of those idiot kids might have caused a disturbance right up your street. No cameras there. Any way I can take a look? I know the time. Shouldn’t take too long.”
He frowned and mumbled to himself.
“I don’t know,” he said, “I’ve got to watch the shop. I’m the only one here.”
“I’ll make it worth your while.” She smiled. “How about fifty bucks.”
Without a word, he lowered his head, walked around the counter, and turned the sign on the door from “open” to “closed.”
“Fifty bucks?” he said. “Come on in!”
The back of the shop was cluttered and dark. Hidden among boxes and spare supplies, the man uncovered a small television set. Above the set—on a higher shelf—was a series of electronic equipment attached to the TV.
“Don’t really use it that often,” he said, “only when there’s trouble. Tapes get erased every week on Monday night. When was your little incident?”
“Saturday night,” she said.
“All right, then, you’re in luck.”
He turned on the set.
The black-and-white image was from right outside the shop. Avery could clearly see the entrance to the store, as well as the opposite side of the street and right up Brattle. The area she specifically wanted to investigate was about fifty yards away. The image was grainier, and it was nearly impossible to make out shapes in front of the alley.
A small mouse was used to scan backwards.
“What time did you say?” he asked.
“Two forty-five,” she said, “but I’ll need to check some other times as well. Do you mind if I just sit down and look for myself? You can get back to the shop.”
A suspicious brow greeted her.
“Are you going to steal anything?”
“I’m a cop,” she said. “That goes against my motto.”
“Then you’re not like any cop I know,” he laughed.
Avery pulled out a small black chair. She wiped off the dust and took a seat. A quick review of the equipment and she was able to easily scan forward and back.
At two forty-five, a few people walked up and down Brattle Street.
At two fifty, the street appeared empty.
By two-fifty two, someone—a girl by the hair and dress—came into view from the direction of Church. She walked across Brattle and turned left. Once she passed the coffee shop, a dark image from under the trees merged with hers, and they both disappeared. For a moment, Avery could only see the ind
ecipherable motion of various shades of black. As the scene continued, the tree shapes took on their original form. The girl never reappeared.
“Shit,” Avery whispered.
She unclipped a sleek, modern walkie-talkie from the back of her belt.
“Ramirez,” she said. “Where are you?”
“Who is this?” came a crackling voice.
“You know who this is. Your new partner.”
“I’m still at Lederman. Almost finished here. They just took away the body.”
“I need you down here, now,” she said and gave him the location. “I think I know where Cindy Jenkins was abducted.”
* * *
An hour later, Avery had the alleyway blocked off on both sides by yellow tape. On Brattle Street, a police car and the forensics van were pulled up onto the sidewalk. One officer had been stationed to discourage visitors.
The alley opened into a wide, darkened street about halfway into the block. One side of the street housed a glass real estate building and a loading dock. On the other side were housing complexes. There was a parking lot that could support four cars. Another police car, along with more yellow tape, was at the end of the alley.
Avery stood in front of the loading dock.
“There,” she said and pointed to a high camera. “We need that footage. It probably belongs to the real estate company. Let’s get in there and see what we can find.”
Ramirez shook his head.
“You’re crazy,” he said. “That tape didn’t show shit.”
“Cindy Jenkins had no reason to walk down this alley,” Avery said. “Her boyfriend lives in the opposite direction.”
“Maybe she wanted to go for a walk,” he argued. “All I’m saying is, this is a lot of manpower for a hunch.”
“It’s no hunch. You saw the tape.”
“I saw a bunch of black blurs I couldn’t understand!” He fought. “Why would the killer attack here? There are cameras everywhere. He’d have to be a complete idiot.”
“Let’s go find out,” she said.
Top Real Estate Company owned the glass building and the loading dock.
After a brief discussion with front desk security, Avery and Ramirez were told to wait on the plush leather couches for someone of higher authority to arrive. Ten minutes later, the head of security and the president of the company appeared.
