Killer Among Us

by Adriana Hunter

  “Broke.”

  “Homeless.”

  “Hungry.”

  “Reduced to working at a job that requires us to be soulless automatons to the machinery of commercialism.”

  “You win.” Sophie said. “I don’t even want to try to keep up with a guy who lived on a commune and has a degree in political science.”

  “No, you don’t. You should think about taking some classes though. Don’t think I don’t see you reading everything in sight. You need to think about furthering your education.”

  “I can’t afford that.” Sophie kept her voice neutral but she knew Geoff knew she wanted to go to college desperately. “Maybe you should talk to my boss about giving me more hours.”

  “Your boss is lucky to afford the rent,” Geoff said and headed for the back to get the soup and cottage cheese.

  ***

  The day dragged for Kane. Janelle spoke to him briefly and while he found he still liked her and respected her and had no hard feelings he was not at all fond of working with her. She was meticulous; she went over every detail over and over again. It was part of what had made their relationship so difficult, he went by instinct and she relied on large doses of constant scrutiny and belaboring points until they were dead. He often thought that they had analyzed their relationship to death.

  The profile was finally complete and he stared down at it. It had most of the typical details: white male, probably in his late forties, professional, likely not white collar however. He was not adverse to media attention but he had yet to contact the police, Janelle was positive that he was cognizant of and perhaps even manipulating parts of the investigation and said so over lunch.

  “You know as well as I do that these types of killers often involve themselves with cases so that they can throw police off their tracks or so that they can manipulate the media into fearing them, it is a way to gain power for them.” She said as they chewed large sandwiches over his desk.

  “With the media being everywhere these days it is a lot easier for one killer to get lost in the mix,” Kane put in, “So quite often they are resorting to bigger scenarios, even worse mutilations and so forth in order to gain attention. I’m not sure that’s playing a part in his accelerating kill rates but it could be.”

  “Look at the way these women were killed,” Janelle said, “It’s like he started off hesitant and unsure but very enraged.”

  “Then there were two that were almost perfunctory, until he got to the one who thought she was a goddess.”

  “Then the rage kicked back in.”

  “I don’t see a pattern,” Kane admitted as he leaned back in his chair. “It’s almost like he chose some of the victims and not the others. I think he may have killed some of the women, the ones who were tortured and killed the hardest, because he knew them and the others because he simply likes being the Creeper and didn’t want to fade from the news. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  “Did any of them know each other?” John Hamm finally put in. He sat in a chair close to the desk but not right at it. Kane was very well aware that John had chosen that position to use body language and perception to make it clear that he was there to help, not to encroach on Kane’s territory.

  “If they did we haven’t found the link.”

  Janelle pulled the files back toward her. Her white blouse pulled taut across her firm high breasts as she did so and Kane saw Forrester’s eyes go to them. He cleared his throat and saw John’s face harden slightly. He knew that the two were not sleeping together, the older man simply found Forrester to be rude and for that Kane couldn’t blame him; the older cop had spent all day ogling Janelle, getting in the way and disrupting their brain storming with a lot of tiresome questions and pointless debating.

  “Maybe we aren’t looking at this from the proper angle.” John said mildly. “Let’s stop looking at who these women were and start looking at who they weren’t.”

  Forrester looked at him, a frown creasing his forehead. “I’m not following you chief,” he said in an openly hostile tone.

  “All of the women did have one thing in common. They were almost famous. None of them were exactly unknown, even the ones who seemed to have been killed as an afterthought. They were all connected by one thing, they were all artists or models or musicians. The …what was her name? The medium? Jenny Fox…she claimed to be an artist too.”

  “Maybe they all had an agent in common.” Kane suggested. “It would be a long shot but we could give it a try. We could put a couple of guys on it.”

  “I don’t see where that makes any sense,” Forrester said through a mouthful of pastrami and rye, “You’re going to be wasting manpower on a bullshit wild goose hunt when they could be out on the streets looking for this guy.”

  ‘We are doing it.” Kane said; his eyes steely as he stared at the other man. He really hoped he would not have to break out the ‘I’m in charge’ card. For a second he almost pitied him, he was fifteen years Kane’s senior but he had been told to play second chair, it had to sting.

  Forrester glared at him, his jaw working at the hunk of bread and meat then he dropped his eyes. Janelle spoke up, her voice deliberately neutral.

  “I think we need to go back and reexamine as many of the actual crime scenes as possible. Get a feel for this firsthand.”

  Kane stood, wiping his hands on a napkin and she stood as well. For one moment he had a sudden and disturbingly vivid memory of the two of them in bed: Janelle tied to the posts, her legs opened wide, her labia slick with fluids and him between her legs with one hand on his stiff cock and the other in her hair, pulling her face close to his for a kiss.

  He turned away, the memory abruptly fading as another took its place: Sophie looking up at him, her eyes at half-mast and her face flushed with the crimson tide that foretold her orgasm.

  Hard on the heels of that thought was a surge of anger. She had lied to him, she had given him a false name and he wasn’t sure why. Even if it had anything to do with her spotting the Creeper it was odd, she had to have trusted him, and she knew damn well he was not the killer.

  Janelle and John stood quietly while he gave orders. Forrester had vanished; his ability to do so was almost uncanny. Kane was relieved because he didn’t want to have to give the man some makeshift type of work to keep him out of their hair.

  ***

  The sun lent a burnished glow to the rooftops and the people walking home after a day at work all seemed exhausted. The tourists had thinned out, Sophie knew the theatres would be packed later but some of the streets seemed to be almost eerily quiet as she made her way home.

  She paused at a crosswalk and her gaze flickered to the building opposite her and her heart dropped into her belly. Kane stood there, his head angled down to hear the words the beautiful blonde woman he was standing next to was saying. They were standing very close together, neither of them paying very much attention to the rest of the world around them.

  Tears erupted from her eyes, startling her into movement. She whirled around and dashed back down the narrow street; intent on getting away she was oblivious to the stares of other pedestrians.

  Kane looked up just as she disappeared down a corner so he never saw her there. Janelle asked, “Do you want to grab some dinner before we get back to work John?”

  John, standing slightly behind the two said, “I saw a diner a few blocks down. I could use some coffee and a meal.”

  “Great,” Kane said. “Me too, that diner makes really great omelets and home fries, if you like them.”

  “I do,” John said, a grin creasing his face as the three of them made their way back down the street,” My doctor hates them though. He swears they will be the death of me.”

  “He must not know what line of work you’re in,” Kane joked, making them all laugh.

  Sophie was not laughing. She raced into her apartment and slammed the door. Sassy came to her and she picked the warm bundle of fur up and held her close, her tears soaking into S
assy’s coat. “I don’t even know why I’m crying,” she sobbed out, “He was just some guy I met!”

  But that wasn’t true and she knew it. There was an aching hollow feeling inside her rib cage and she could not stop weeping for a long time.

  ***

  It was after nine and Kane wondered if Sophie had to work early the next morning or if she were out. He stood outside her door and raised his hand to knock, paused, lowered it and then raised it again a bit sheepishly. He wanted to see her, he wanted to talk to her and he wasn’t sure why he felt so driven to do so.

  Sophie peeked through her peephole and her hand went to her mouth. Her eyes darted around the apartment; it was pin neat as usual. She looked down at the flannel pajamas pants and sloppy tee shirt she wore and she spun around, poised to run to the bedroom to change. Then anger took over, how dare he show up on her doorstep? He probably expected that she would just let him in and fuck him! Color hit her face as she realized she wanted him to do just that.

  He was turned toward the stairs, about to leave and when he heard the click of the locks he felt his heart beat a little faster but the sight of her face: Tear swollen and angry made him bite back the words he had been about to say.

  “Can I help you?” She asked haughtily.

  He opened his mouth to say something then he saw the madly cavorting purple ducks on the bright orange pajama bottoms and he forgot what had been about to roll off of his tongue.

  “Nice pajamas,” was all he could manage.

  “Maybe the blonde you were with today is waiting for you in something more seductive,” she snapped, her hand coming up to slam the door.

  “What blonde?” He yelped as the door closed on his hand, then he batted it open.

  “The one you were with!”

  “Janelle?” He shook his head, “Where the hell did you see her? Why are you so angry?”

  “Why are you here?” Sophie countered.

  “I wanted to talk to you. I’m sorry if this is a bad time.”

  “Talk about what and why don’t you go talk to Janelle?”

  Kane was utterly perplexed. He had never had a woman slam a door on him before, nor had he ever seen a woman look so adorable in such ugly garments, he honestly wondered if he would go blind by just looking at the oddly contrasting colors she had on.

  “Janelle is likely in her hotel room sifting through crime scene photos with John. I have had enough of that case for one day. I wanted to talk to you, I wanted to see you…shit I have no idea why…” anger flashed through him and he turned to leave.

  “Wait!” Sophie took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I don’t…do…that…a lot. With people, I mean with other people, not that I do it without people…er….”

  Her obvious embarrassment broke the tension. “May I come in?” Kane asked and she nodded, stepping back to allow him entrance to her apartment. “You have a lot of room here. This is a Pre-War place; they’re hard as hell to get. Did you knock off a listing agent or something?’

  Sophie actually laughed at that one. “No. My …Susan…I had a friend and she wanted to move here. We wanted to move here. We had a plan and everything but she…”

  “She died.”

  Sophie blinked. “How did you know?”

  “You gave me a fake name. You used her ID at the club, you two look a lot alike, or you did in the beginning. I was going over your report and …well I checked it out.”

  Sophie patted the deep recliner nervously, “Do you want to sit down? I have some coffee if you want a cup.”

  “That sounds great.”

  He watched her making the brew, she seemed less nervous when she was working and when she brought it to him she served to him in a way that was telling and she did it without asking. The cup sat on a small saucer, the handle turned toward him. She had put just enough cream into it and he took an appreciative sip before asking, “Do you want to talk about it?”

  She did. That surprised her; she had never felt the need to tell her secrets. Sitting down on the other chair she reached for Sassy, who gave her a wounded look and jumped up on Kane’s lap instead. Kane gave the pooch a few pats and she settled down, shooting her owner a satisfied glare.

  “Susan was my sister. Foster sister. We ended up in foster together, at a home that belonged to a preacher and his wife. They were the kind of people that had two faces – one for the public and their true face, one that was darker than anyone would ever believe.”

  The way her lips thinned told him the rest, that and the knowledge of Susan’s downward spiral but he sat quietly, waiting to learn how much she trusted him.

  “Susan got the worst of it, she wanted to protect me. She did protect me. She…she had been in homes like that before and she was, this sounds so wrong but she was hard even then. Please don’t take that to mean she was …”

  Words failed her. Kane reached for her hand and she looked down at his long elegant fingers, surprised by the gracefulness and strength of them. She knew he understood what she was trying to say so she took a long breath and went on.

  “When he came into our room she would throw herself at him, she used to pretend she liked it so he would leave me alone. It didn’t always work, but sometimes it did.

  “We were both working and plotting to get the hell out of that place, to move here. Then she…our foster father came for a visit one afternoon while I was at work. It seems he decided our leaving was not going to stop him from seeing her. She fought him, hard, but it didn’t stop him.”

  She paused for a moment but knew that if she wanted to explain her life to him she dared not stop for too long, otherwise she’d never have the guts to continue.

  “He stole whatever dreams she had because if he could touch her…hurt her, even though she believed she was finally free of him, then she felt she had nowhere to hide. I think she just gave up entirely. After that day, she got into the drugs, then the prostitution. She was running away from it all and I knew it. I tried so hard to help her. I wanted her to be whole and happy. This apartment was like our Mecca, well, not this particular apartment but the city. She would get clean and then it would all go wrong. One Sunday morning I found her on the floor in front of the TV watching the broadcast from our foster father’s church. She was laughing hysterically and singing. She had a knife and her arms were hacked all to pieces. I think I knew then that she was never going to recover. I tried to get her to move then, she wouldn’t and I couldn’t leave her. I love her, and I owe her…owed her.”

  Swallowing, she inhaled sharply before squeezing her eyes shut in a forced attempt to continue on.

  “I knew she needed more help and I didn’t do anything. Don’t tell me not to feel guilty; I know how I failed her. If I had just been willing to go with her, to drag her into counseling she might have gone. I was afraid to do that because I didn’t want to have to confront my own past. After she died I decided it was time to go. She even encouraged me then, she left me a note.” Her lips curled into a thin smile. “I found this place out of sheer luck. The couple it belongs to took a missionary posting. I hate to say I was not above using my years in the church to help forward my application.”

  “It must have been hard for you to lose her.”

  “It was.”

  Silence spun out between them for a few minutes. Finally Kane spoke, “Why did you use her name at the club and a fake one for the report?”

  “I don’t really know. Too many years spent living in the system makes me suspicious I suppose. I’m sorry about that.”

  “It’s okay, I knew where you lived.”

  Sophie chuckled. “Would you like more coffee?”

  “No, I should go.”

  He held the saucer and cup out to her, she reached for it. Their fingers met and electricity sparked between them. Goose pimples rose along her arms and she heard the long inhale of her own breath. Their eyes met and held.

  Kane knew he should leave. Sophie was everything he had been waiting for, her beauty a
nd her natural tendency to serve, her feistiness, it all made her incredibly appealing. With that thought he remembered the reason why he had left the Bureau.

  He stood, intending to leave. He knew if he stayed he would never let her go, he wanted her that badly. “You’re a cop and she will never be happy living the life of a cop’s wife,” he told himself sternly.

  Sophie set the cup on the table and took one step closer to him. His black hair drew her attention and she raised a finger, stroking it lightly along the coarse and short strands. He reached up, running his fingers along the nape of her neck before tangling them into her thick black hair.

  He jerked her face forward none too gently and she started then opened her mouth eagerly. Her nipples tightened and wetness soaked into her panties. He plundered her mouth, his tongue probing every corner and crease. Her eyes closed and she slumped against his hard and strong body, surrendering to him totally.

  “Do you trust me?” At her nod he asked, “Are you very fond of what you’re wearing?”

  “Huh? No, they are just warm is all.”

  “Good,” an impish and devilish grim creased his sensual lips. “Wait here.”

  Sophie heard him rattling around in her kitchen drawers but she was not sure what it was he had in mind until he came back holding a knife. Fear exploded into her bloodstream and she had to fight the urge to run. Kane went to her window, yanked the drapes aside and then came back to where she stood.

  “Close your eyes,” he commanded.

  It was a struggle and every part of her resisted. Ingrained fear and experience told her to fight, to flee, and to resist but she couldn’t. She took one long breath and closed her eyes. Darkness, tinted by red, surrounded her. She held her breath, waiting for his next move.

  Kane knew exactly how hard she had just fought. Passion ignited in him, as did another stronger emotion. He took a small step toward her and ran one finger along the curve of her pale cheek, feeling her shiver under his fingertips.

  He kissed her ear then he reached for the collar of the shirt she wore.