Killer Among Us

by Adriana Hunter

  “Good, I’m fucking starving, let’s get some lunch.”

  “Do you think it’s possible he has a heart below the surface?” Lynette asked, wincing.

  “I doubt it,” Kane replied, watching Forrester’s rapidly disappearing back, “I think his heart left the job years ago.”

  ***

  Sophie walked into the small bookstore with a determined smile, and her completed application. She peered into the gloom, looking for the desk, which seemed to have been moved from the place it had occupied before. Closer inspection revealed it had simply been buried under books.

  “Hello?” She called nervously, “Anyone here?”

  A frizzled mess of solid white curls surrounding an oddly cherubic and yet dour face popped out from behind a long shelf. “Depends on what you want.”

  “I brought the application back.”

  The man stalked toward her and she had to suppress a giggle, his body was incredibly long and so thin he looked as if he had a terminal case of tapeworm. His malicious elven face seemed even more incongruous atop that frame. Dust motes buzzed his head and he sneezed explosively.

  “Damn dust!” He roared. “I just hit up a fabulous auction in the Berkshires. Got a lot of good books. And an armoire. The armoire’s shit but some of the books are pretty good. Except for that entire collection of Barbara Cartland that I got. Those bastards tucked a few moldering paperbacks I actually enjoyed reading on the top and wouldn’t let anyone dig through the box. Cost me fifteen dollars. If you say you like her I will fire you.”

  “You haven’t hired me,” Sophie pointed out.

  “Well aren’t you the stickler,” he muttered as he pulled inch thick glasses over his light blue eyes and glared down at her application. “Nice penmanship.”

  “Thank you.” Sophie wanted the job badly, there were very few people she liked on sight but she liked him. Besides, she was tired of working in diners and pubs, she had enough money to get by for a while as long as she was working and she could feel a warm feeling in her belly as he gave her another long look.

  “Tell me, are you a model?”

  “What? No.”

  “You could be, but not if you want to work here; ditto for actress, singer, band member, mime or any other variation of those things. I need someone who is going to work, period. There will be no running off for open cattle calls or getting calls from agents who just landed you an audition that will get you into the role you have been waiting for your whole life.”

  “I haven’t been waiting for anything my whole life.” Her voice held sincerity.

  “Hmm, I see. What was the last book you read?”

  “It was a collection of short stories by Eudora Welty, I just finished them last night.”

  “Death of a Traveling Salesman was always one of my favorites. You’re hired. I’m Goeff Fisher; your pay is twelve bucks an hour, thirty hours a week. I can’t go higher than that. I’m so gay I make Liberace look straight so don’t think your charms will get you a raise or even a day off that wasn’t scheduled, unless it is an emergency. Are we clear?” She nodded. “Good, your first job is to do something with those damn Cartland novels.”

  “What do you need me to do with them?”

  “I don’t really care what you do with them, as long as I never have to see them again.” He pointed to a dusty cardboard box and vanished once again, muttering something about forms needing to be filled out.

  Sophie glanced out at her car, parked at the curb. She toted the box out and hurled it into her backseat, closed the door and dusted off her hands, grinning with satisfaction.

  The warm spring air had brought green to the leaves of the trees that stood in the tiny park across the avenue. Pigeons by the hundreds pecked along the red bricks, gobbling down the crumbs from hot dogs and knishes. She stood there for a few moments, engrossed by the street scene and the way people ate as they walked, nonchalantly stuffing pretzels and other foods into their mouths with one hand, their other hand on their phones or holding shopping bags.

  “Are you running away?” Geoff asked from the doorway. “Tell me now because these tax forms are an absolute bitch and if I don’t have to bother I would rather not.”

  “Absolutely not.” Sophie replied with a flash of a smile, and went back into the shop.

  ***

  The eyes looked right past him, avoiding his stern gaze. He stood there naked, letting them all see him for what he was. A television droned in the background, its hazy dull light flickering between scenes, and he moved so that they could see the latest news report. Of course he was once again being featured. The Creeper.

  The name made him laugh, bringing to mind a nineteen thirties villain. It was outlandish and yet it fit, he crept up on his victims. They never saw him coming until it was too late.

  He stroked himself, feeling his organ swelling under his fingertips. The eyes now watched him and he began to work his hand faster, squeezing his groin fiercely. The doorbell suddenly rang, a strident squeal that instantly broke his concentration, interrupting his maddening desire to climax. His hand came away slightly sticky from pre ejaculation and he cursed.

  The blue-eyes seemed to smirk at his predicament and he stopped himself just in time, his hands itched to rip those eyes right out of her head.

  Buttoning his fly he left his trophy room, calling out to the person ringing his bell to hold on.

  ***

  Kane leaned against the kitchen counter in his apartment, surveying the place with a critical eye. It was a one bedroom in the East Village, a third floor walkup. He had moved in after he had broken up with Janelle, his girlfriend of four years. That had been two years earlier, and he had never really bothered to unpack most of his things: cardboard boxes sat against the walls, his desk was cluttered with papers and photographs of crime scenes, the couch was a long lumpy thing that had come with the place and bore the stains of too many previous owners and the bed was not much better.

  The kitchen and living room were essentially one large open space, the kitchen itself held a tiny dorm sized refrigerator, a small two burner stovetop, a coffee maker and a miniscule microwave, as he rarely cooked that did not bother him. He owned exactly one plate and two coffee cups.

  For some reason he felt depressed at the sight of it. He caught sight of himself in the window pane: tall and well-built with wide shoulders and trim waist, long legs that were filled with muscles due to his love for running and flat abs that felt solid under his fingers. His black hair had a touch of gray at the temples, odd for a man who was barely over thirty, not so odd considering he was one of the youngest Homicide detectives in the city. His brown eyes had tiny thin lines around them; laugh lines that had had precious little reason to make an appearance lately. He turned away, dumping his coffee into the sink.

  I need a release. The thought surfaced and refused to lie back down. He fought it; it had been years since he had visited any of the dungeons or clubs around the city. He had not had the time and what was more, he had not had the heart for it either. Janelle had been a wonderful submissive but they had simply not worked out, they had both been on the fast tracks in their careers and busy with so many other things that they had lost a lot of what had attracted them to each other in the first place. The breakup had been amicable and they still spoke on the rare occasion they ran into each other, but the fact that it had been amicable had not made it any less painful.

  Outside his windows dark had fallen. From the street below he could hear noisy laughter and smell the food from the halal cart that set up almost directly beneath the windows. Restlessness tied his stomach into knots and he paced the small living room, making a circuit around the couch and desk. The vision of his favorite club came to mind, and lust made his prick twitch at the zipper of his black jeans. Swearing softly he turned on the television and was instantly bombarded with images of The Creeper’s victims. He hit the off button on the remote and then tossed the remote onto the couch.

  “I’ll go for a
run,” he decided. “That should settle me down some.”

  Even as he pulled on his sweats, running shoes and a t-shirt, he knew that what he was really doing was trying to run away from himself, and that was one race he knew no man ever won.

  ***

  Sassy had fallen in love with a particular section of Central Park. It was far enough away from Sophie’s apartment that it meant she had to put Sophie in the little fabric tote she had bought at Goodwill and then carry her there and home because otherwise Sassy would have been too tired to play in the grass. Sophie didn’t mind the long walk; it was about twenty minutes each way; in fact she enjoyed it because it took up long stretches of time she might not have been able to fill otherwise. Sassy liked to hang her head over the side of the tote and take in the view as well, Sophie had always been too afraid to let the small animal hang out the window of her car like other dogs did so she figured the tote gave Sassy a way to do that without danger.

  Watching the happy little creature gambol about on the grass made her happy but she was aware that something was missing. Sitting on the red and blue blanket she had carried so that her pants would not get dirty she thought about her life, and the shape it was taking.

  When she had been younger she had made friends easily, nothing in her experience had taught her that life could be cruel and she trusted most people right off the bat, especially authority figures. After the car crash that had killed her parents and her subsequent burial in the system, she had learned that life was not always about dinner on the table at six o’clock every night, that not all kids were nice to each other, that authority figures were often, if not downright petty and cruel, too busy to bother listening when she tried to ask for help and that nothing in life was fair.

  Susan had been her only confidante throughout those years, she was unable to imagine telling anyone else what had happened to her, and with Susan words had been unnecessary. She had been there with her in that place and had shared those same experiences.

  Looking at the people in the park Sophie became acutely aware of just how lonely she was. She talked to Geoff and customers at work but when she went home she had no one for company other than Sassy.

  She raised her face to the sun, letting its strong rays soak away some of her sadness. It was late when they started back, and Sassy was restless. She kept moving in the tote, and barking at people who passed by. Sophie knew it was because they had stayed too late at the park and Sassy was hungry and irritated but it didn’t make it any easier to hang onto her. At one point she leashed her and tried walking her to see if that would calm her down, it didn’t so she put her back in the tote where she wriggled and yowled until they reached home.

  She fed Sassy and immediately afterwards the canine curled up in her bed and went back to sleep. Sophie peeked into her almost bare cabinets, looking for some dinner for herself. Her kitchen was very small and so was her appetite so she had taken to buying food on a day-to-day basis. Her cabinet held a packet of Ramen noodles, a can of ravioli and a pound cake. The fridge had an overripe avocado, a cup of pudding from her lunch the day before and salad that had turned brown and limp.

  Giving up she took her keys and purse and headed out into the darkness to buy food.

  ***

  Kane had given in. In his bedroom he toweled his just showered body off and then dressed in black jeans, a black t-shirt and his boots. He didn’t pack a bag for the club, telling himself that all he wanted to do was watch, he had not ever picked up anyone he didn’t know for casual play and he didn’t intend to do so then. He just needed to reconnect, to be around others like himself.

  He headed out, walking down the darkening avenues, enjoying the smells of the city. He had grown up in Austerlitz and had always longed for the excitement of the city. He had never been sorry about the move; there was something about the pulse of life there, something so raw and vital that it called out to him.

  A young woman with a shaven head and tight leather leggings strolled past him, her perfume making a sharp and momentary exclamation in the air. Traffic gnashed and slowed and the man at the stand selling roasted nuts waved a hand at him, bringing the smell of sticky honey and almonds his way.

  Neon bounced and wavered, from the doorways of restaurants people called out to each other, yelled at taxis or simply let the warm and scented air out into the night. Men in business suits carried on conversations with each other and tourists stood gawking past the hot white lights blazing from the storefronts to the expensive merchandise within.

  People drifted in huge shoals, and he let himself be carried along. His thoughts refused to coalesce and he didn’t force them to, he just walked and enjoyed the city.

  The club was inside a large warehouse that had been converted for its use over a decade before. The door was small, discreet, tucked into a wall. There were no visible signs that anything was going on in there. He rang the bell and waited.

  ***

  Sophie had decided to treat herself so she had her dinner in a small and quiet Italian restaurant where the helpings were huge and the bill reasonable. She pushed her plate back, eyeing the scraped clean surface a bit regretfully. The vegetable lasagna had been bursting with flavors she had never had before: ricotta and zucchini and tarragon, the bread had been warm and crusty and the salad crisp and tasty. She drank the last of her coffee and paid her check, leaving a generous tip for her waitress, who smiled at her in thanks.

  Out on the street she found herself confused. She had been walking a bit aimlessly, and the restaurant was not on a street she was familiar with. She went down a nearly deserted side street, came into a dead end and backtracked her way back to a major avenue that she knew.

  She had turned down a smaller street and was nearing home when she saw him.

  ***

  He had made the kill three hours before and he was weary and ready to go home. His trophy was stashed in the special insulated bag he carried and he walked out of the apartment building, his cap pulled low and his face pointed down. He knew where the two cameras were and he avoided them, but on the off chance someone saw him he had dressed to ensure that he was unremarkable: Baseball hat, dark jeans, dark shirt, no jacket. He deliberately wore the girdle that made him look slimmer and bent his knees so that he appeared an inch or two shorter than he was.

  He stepped out onto the sidewalk and into a pile of dog shit someone had left behind. Anger swelled up and he cursed several times, his face turning red. He set the bag down so that he could scrape his shoe on the curb and his knee accidentally hit it. His latest trophy rolled out onto the sidewalk.

  Sophie had stepped onto the square of sidewalk just as the heavy skull rolled onto it. She stared at it, her mind frozen at the incomprehensibility of the situation. The severed end revealed a clotted maroon and the eyes were rolled back up in the sockets. The grisly hunk of neck stopped at the toe of her right shoe.

  “Halloween mask,” was her first thought but when she looked up at the man standing there, his face turned toward her yet obscured by shadows and the bill of his hat, she knew better. His eyes had a glitter she had seen before: predatory.

  She turned and ran, not stopping to think. She wore the tennis shoes she had worn to walk to the park and she had fear on her side, she did not dare look back, and she didn’t need to, she could hear him running after her.

  Ahead of her loomed another wider avenue. Lights streamed from buildings and taxis, she could hear people talking. For one long moment she thought she was trapped in some strange netherworld but then she was back on the avenue and running toward a door that was opening and a strong looking man who was stepping into it.

  Kane stared as the gorgeous woman with the pale skin and long ebony hair burst into the club on his heels. Her brightly blue eyes held sheer terror and her quivering mouth, though devoid of lipstick, had a delightfully kissable coral hue.

  Her body was long, lean and elegant and every inch of it was vibrating with the fear that was stamped on her features. The
door swung shut behind them and the doorman asked, “Do you know her?”

  The doorman was the same one who had been there during the years when Kane made a regular appearance. He started to shake his head in reply, but his instincts told him she was in trouble and that if he let her loose something terrible would happen to her.

  “Well you are going to have to renew your membership and sign her in as a guest. That will cost you a hundred bucks, my man.”

  Sophie opened her mouth but nothing came out. The man she had run into seemed to find nothing odd about that, instead he patted her shoulder, an impartial bit of comforting.

  She was too confused to make sense of anything. She kept waiting for the door to open and the man with the head in a bag to charge in. She looked around wildly for somewhere to hide, but there was only the small and cloyingly narrow hallway in which they stood, the walls painted jet black and the floors carpeted in heavy red. She felt dizzy and slightly nauseated. Her heartbeat was still way too high and sweat pooled under her hairline thanks to her impromptu run.

  Kane asked her for her ID, she stared at him then dug around in her purse, showing her ID to the man behind the makeshift counter. The man took it, perused it and handed it and a shiny plastic card back to her. She simply tucked them into her purse without thinking. They were waved on and they moved into a smaller room, still dimly lit, but with couches and chairs scattered about. Kane went to the small alcove where snacks and beverages were provided and brought her back a bottle of water and a small chocolate wrapped in gold paper.

  “So let’s start with your name.” He spoke in his calmest voice and it soothed her.

  “I’m Sophie.”

  “I’m Kane. It looked like you were running from something.”

  “Yes,” she replied in a shaky whisper. “This is going to sound crazy; I was running because there was…I thought… a head rolled into my feet.”