Killer

by Gillian Zane

  "Oh sorry." I chewed my bottom lip. "Trying to get a shot for the paper."

  "Where's your media credentials? You could get past the barricades if you have your ID," Troy offered up a caveat.

  "College paper, I don’t have a media pass,” I said sheepishly, chewing on my bottom lip and trying not to laugh as he ate it up.

  "Hmmm, that still counts. Come on over, but you have to stand by the squad car, and don’t tell anyone I bent the rules for you. Don’t go past the vehicle.” He pointed at the SUV. "Wouldn't want you to get injured by a rowdy drummer," he laughed and I joined him, letting him open the barricade for me like a gentleman. I slipped through and sashayed over to the other officer, who was frowning at me and Troy. I ignored him and pretended to take pictures of the passing band.

  Troy made small talk during the entire parade, his mood considerably improved. He kept asking me inane questions, like where I went to college, my major, and what I planned to do with my life. I hadn't established even a last name with this cover, not expecting to engage him much in conversation so I kept my answers as vague as possible. I had learned a few tricks about lying since I had died. It was ironic.

  When the last float meandered by and the crowd began to filter away I finally found a chance to lead Troy in the direction this entire ruse was about.

  "My sorority is thinking about doing a charity calendar, first responders as models," I said as I pretended to click through the pictures I took. "Nothing set in stone, but if we did do something like that, you would be perfect." I looked up at him shyly and he was hooked.

  "Why would I be perfect?” he asked.

  "Well, you know, it would all be hot first responders, and uh," I faked a stutter and a blush, looking down at my feet.

  "You're saying I'm hot?" he asked.

  "C'mon, you know, right?" My laugh was breathy and high-pitched.

  "I wouldn't have to be naked, would I?" he teased.

  "Maybe shirtless? Or with your uniform shirt open," I suggested. "Would you let me take your picture and show them? If we decide to do it, the shoot would be more formal. But I could get your image now, and I’m sure they would be sooo excited when they saw you.” Again that breathy little girl’s voice.

  "You want to take my picture right now?"

  “Yeah, I do.” He smiled and leaned against his SUV taking me in. I lifted the camera and took a few shots.

  “Like this?” he asked and I nodded.

  He slid a hand over the harness at his chest and shut the body camera off. I guess the detective didn’t want to be caught on company time posing for a camera. But then he did something else, he slipped his harness off and dropped it through the window of the SUV.

  "Oh, you don't have to do that," I said.

  "It's bulky and makes me look fat, and how are you going to see my abs?” he joked.

  "You're what?" I gulped, snapping more pictures. Troy had taken it up a few notches; his ego was obviously fueling his actions. I hadn’t expected him to be this bold.

  "These," Troy said as he began to unbutton his shirt. I hadn't expected this; I didn't expect Troy's brashness. We were basically alone. The other officer had left five minutes ago to get his own vehicle, and the majority of the crowd had now dispersed. I saw Drake lurking in the entranceway of a closed shop, keeping an eye on the few people milling about. Troy motioned for me to follow him around the SUV, where it was harder to be seen by the few remaining people on the street and he finished unbuttoning his shirt. Then he struck a pose. His shirt wide open, his hand on the gun at his hip, he leaned against the SUV and gave me his Blue Steel. I had to cough to cover up the hysterical giggle that wanted to purge itself. This is better than I had hoped.

  I made sure to crop him perfectly in each shot, the ID number of his squad car plainly visible next to his chiseled abs. I made sure his name tag and badge was also clearly shown. He smiled big. He flexed. He did some different poses. He ate it all up.

  I finally told him I had enough and he buttoned his shirt back up, making sure to not break eye contact with me the entire time. Just in case I didn’t get that he was flirting with me.

  "So when are you gonna call me for another shoot?" he asked.

  “Well, I guess if they decide to do the calendar I will," I nodded nervously.

  "How about you call me for something other than a picture?"

  "Oh wow,” I squeaked. “Really?”

  “Sure, we can get coffee, or maybe go to dinner?” He closed the distance between us.

  “Okay, gimme your phone." I held out my hand and he placed his unlocked phone in my palm. I pulled up his contacts and entered a fake number.

  “I wouldn’t mind dinner,” I said shyly. “You’re really gonna call me?”

  "I will." He smiled a very leery kind of grin and I looked at my feet to cover my eye roll.

  I placed a hand on his reinstalled harness and got up on tip-toes and kissed his cheek. As I got closer to him, I ran a hand along his body cam, sending energy into it to change it. The camera would now stay on even if he manually shut it down.

  "Nice meeting you, Officer Troy."

  "It's actually Detective, I'm only here for the parade," he said to impress.

  "Nice meeting you, Detective." I made a waving gesture and spun on my toes and skipped away.

  7

  The Internet is Forever

  I let my glamour drop the moment we were back in Drake’s office, and I felt the immediate release of pressure. Keeping up a fake appearance slowly drained away my energy, it felt like a headache about to form.

  When I was back to normal, I grabbed the laptop and began to unload all of the photos onto the server. Drake forwarded them to whatever division is in charge of social media and within minutes they were working overtime to get things in motion.

  The accounts were created under the name of Clarissa Adams, 18, single, and a member of Zeta Alpha Zeta sorority. Clarissa was only a freshman, but already she had quite a few followers from her university on her social media accounts. It helped that she liked to do make-up tutorials and post witty college related commentary. And that she was hot and rather flirtatious and liked to post duck-faced selfies in the bathroom while wearing only a towel.

  When Clarissa posted the photo of Troy with his shirt unbuttoned and his abs on display, titling it "Hottest Cop Ever Let's Make Him Famous" it was an instant viral sensation. It didn't help that the tech guys could tweak the social media algorithms so the post was actually seen by her followers instead of slipping through the cracks. Within two hours it was shared over one thousand times and had close to five hundred comments.

  By that evening it was in the hundreds of thousands. Commenters had already tracked him down, confirmed he was real, and the evening news was running a quick snippet about the hot cop on the parade route. By the morning news, the post sharing was in the millions and the morning anchor on the national broadcast fanned herself when they showed his picture on the large screen behind her. The clip of her fanning herself was then shared and retweeted in the hundreds of thousands also.

  Troy called me that morning and said it would probably be better if we met away from the station to go over the next case. He said there was a bit of drama going down in the cop shop and it would be better if we stayed out of it. I didn’t ask any questions. I met him three blocks away at an actual coffee shop this time.

  He had the Mercier file sitting on the table when I sat down. There were no others with him. He was in full uniform.

  “I thought about it, and I don’t know if I can help with that case, maybe we can do another one first,” I protested indicating the file.

  “If you helped solve this one, no one would question me or you ever again,” he said as I sipped my coffee and looked at the file with anxiety that made my eye twitch. My stomach was roiling in nervous waves and either the coffee was making my palms sweat or I was manifesting too well.

  “It seems a little complicated for me,” I said in a low voice.r />
  “Just do the same thing you did with Liam’s parents,” he encouraged.

  “Are they questioning you, about me?” I changed the subject, latching on to what he first said.

  “You gotta know this isn’t orthodox, Cas,” Troy said through mouthfuls of his scone, not answering my question.

  “Right,” I frowned, touching the blue manila folder with my ring finger, sliding it slightly closer to me.

  “This is a case that will blow them away if we wrap it up, blow them away.” He sat back and regarded me with pleading eyes.

  “Why are you in uniform? Is it because of me?” I asked, pretending I was just noticing his attire.

  “I did something stupid and the Lieutenant is making me pay for it. It has nothing to do with you,” he huffed.

  “What did you do?” I asked.

  “What, you don’t know?” He exhaled a large breath and plucked at his harness.

  “Just because I can see some things, doesn’t mean I know it all.” I frowned at him.

  “No, I didn’t mean it like that. It was on the news, and all over social media. Figured you had seen it there.”

  “Oh, no. I was binging on Netflix last night,” I lied.

  “You’re probably the only one in the county that hasn’t seen it,” he laughed and I could have sworn he was a little bit proud of it.

  “Wow, your mistake went viral?” I laughed.

  “Yeah,” he said, trying not to look proud of it.

  “About this case, though,” he said trying to get the topic back on hand. He slid the folder back to him and opened it up.

  “I won’t be able to help,” I argued.

  “Yes, you will. Please, Cas?” If I refused this case, he wouldn’t back down. He needed to solve this one as much as I did. He thought by solving this case he could prove himself to his Lieutenant. He thought the man’s resentment was only because he thought he was incompetent. Not that he suspected him of being dirty.

  “Tell me about it.”

  Troy clapped his hands together and smiled broadly.

  “You are going to help on this one, I know it.”

  “I’m the psychic, Detective,” I grumped. Somehow his smile got even bigger.

  “Her name is Cassandra Mercier. She was on the force for a total of nine months, good kid. Smart and eager. Her goal was to be a detective. Me and her hit it off when we met.”

  “You were friends?”

  “On the job, yeah, but not off. Strictly professional. I liked to joke with her; she had a good sense of humor.”

  “You said she’s missing?”

  “Yes. Presumed dead because of the amount of blood. Her boyfriend reported her missing on Sunday, the 9th of April. Her shift had ended the evening of the 8th, so he wasn’t able to file a missing person’s report. He told the police officer who took his statement she wasn’t in her apartment, that the bed wasn’t even slept in. This wasn’t like her. Her car was not in the lot.”

  “What’s the boyfriend’s name?” I asked to say something.

  “Peter,” he replied.

  “The Pete that was a suspect?” I asked to keep him talking.

  “Same one. They were dating for about four months, but were supposedly friends since high school and had a long established relationship. He claimed she was supposed to go to a party Saturday night, but there are conflicting reports if she went or not.”

  “So he went missing after, not at the same time?”

  “Right, he was around for about 48 hours after she went missing and then no sign of him.”

  “So there is no proof that she went to the party, or if she went home?”

  “The boyfriend said she did, or she at least texted him saying she was going, but the best friend she was supposed to go with says no, she refused to go. We haven’t been able to nail down anyone who saw her at the party to confirm or deny, but we have reports that the best friend was in attendance. From what the best friend is telling us, we don’t believe Cassandra made it to the party.”

  “I can’t believe you are bailing on me, Cassandra.” Lauren put the full range of her disappointment into my name.

  “I’ve had a long day, and the last thing I want to do is go to another one of Nickie’s ratchet parties.” I sighed and started taking off my uniform. Lauren had hitched a ride to my apartment, still trying to talk me into going to the damn party. All I wanted to do was go to bed, maybe binge watch a few shows. Sleep in and maybe binge watch some more in the morning. She probably only wanted me to go so she had a designated driver.

  “You know, I get the feeling that you just don’t want to hang out with me anymore. First you start screwing Pete behind my back, the both of you lying about it, and now you don’t even want to go to a party with me. I get the hint, Cassandra.” She let the last part hang in the air between us.

  I had no choice. If I didn’t go to the party with Lauren, this would probably be the end of our friendship. It would be over. Lauren put priority on parties and drinking, it was important to her. If I valued her, I would have to do this.

  “Lauren is saying she didn’t go to the party?” I asked again.

  “You picked up her name?” he asked me, surprise on his face at my slip. I guess it wasn’t going to be easy to cover my prior knowledge in this case.

  “Yes, Lauren, or Laurie, I think.”

  “Go with your gut, you were right with your first guess. Lauren is the BFF, and yeah, she’s claiming Cassandra didn’t make it to the party. ‘She bailed on me like a bitch,’ is the direct quote.”

  “She said that about her missing friend?”

  “We hadn’t told her she was missing yet,” Troy shrugged.

  “I think she’s lying.”

  “Lauren is lying? About going to the party?”

  “Cassandra was going to the party, I know that. She might not have made it, though. But she was going with Lauren. They were taking Cassandra’s car.”

  “You got that all just now?” Troy asked, shock evident in his face.

  “Yes,” I answered simply.

  “It makes sense. We checked Peter’s phone records. Cassandra had texted him that she was going to the party. We assumed that she might have been lying to the boyfriend, maybe going to meet someone else. Our investigation stalled out trying to find out who she was actually going to meet. Lauren gave a statement, let me find it.” He rifled through the file, pulling out a piece of paper.

  “She says that Pete and Cassandra’s relationship seemed strained lately, that Cassandra was avoiding Pete. She and Pete both suspected Cassandra might be seeing someone else.”

  “She wasn’t,” I stated emphatically. “There was no one else.” Troy looked skeptical. “I’m really getting no one else. I think there was an issue with the relationship, but Cassandra intended on going to that party with Lauren. They left together in Cassandra’s car.”

  I remembered that much. I remembered us leaving together. But, Lauren told the police she had left without me. Why?

  “Lauren stated that she had a friend pick her up from Cassandra’s house and the friend went to the party instead of Cassandra,” Troy confirmed.

  That wasn’t the truth.

  Why would Lauren lie to the police? Why would Lauren say we didn’t go to the party when we did? Unless she had something to hide.

  I shook my head.

  “So, you’re saying, you are positive Lauren and Cassandra went to the party?”

  “Yes, or at least leaving for the party.” I nodded my head. “I don’t see them getting to the party, but I see them leaving. I see Lauren begging Cassandra to go with her. She even came to the station to get Cassandra to go with her. There was someone here.” I pinched my nose as if searching for the name.

  “At, something. Atchaflaya…”

  “Atachaya?” Troy asked.

  “Yes!” I exclaimed like it was all fitting together. “Atachaya. Ask him, he was here when Lauren showed up.” Troy looked at me like I had slapped him.
>
  8

  Who’s Lying Now?

  “Lauren lied to the police about going to a party. What did she tell you, Drake?” I snuck out of the bull pen while Troy was trying to get Lauren pulled in for questioning again. I immediately called Drake.

  “She told me that she tried to talk you into going to a party, but you refused. You stayed home, but she thought it might be because you were meeting someone. It’s why I suspected you might be cheating on Pete. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out who this mystery person was, because it was most likely the suspect.”

  “It was a lie, I wasn’t cheating on Pete. I wasn’t meeting anyone. Lauren showed up at the precinct after a long shift. I was tired and didn’t want to go to the party, but she kept claiming I wasn’t her friend, her usual bullshit. So, I relented. I remember getting into the car and driving, the intention was that we were going to the party.” I was huddled outside of the police precinct, faking like I was smoking a cigarette so I wouldn’t look suspicious if Troy came out to find me. The temperature was dropping and I wished I had had the sense to grab my sweater.

  “Which doesn’t match up with Lauren’s statement. She said there was a friend who picked her up and brought her to the party. There were corroborating witnesses that saw her at the party. So, her story checked out.” I heard the shuffle of papers as he was most likely going through his own files.

  “Did she say who the friend was?”

  “Not that I can recall, but I don’t think it was important. She was verified as attending the party, which gave her an alibi for the time you went missing.”

  “She’s lying, Drake.” The statement made me feel uncomfortable, to accuse my friend of lying. But it was the truth. I thought about how she had acted when I ran into her during one of my prior cases. How ugly she had been, how conniving. I had barely recognized her. She definitely wouldn’t have been a friend to me now if we just met.

  “What does that mean?” he asked.