by Unknown
A loudspeaker came on.
“Ten minutes. The aquarium will close in ten minutes.”
After the closing, he followed the happy couple to a restaurant nearby. He’d been watching her for nearly two months, in tandem with all of the other women he intended to utilize in his plan. He was surprised at how easily she was enamored with her date. The man obviously had no interest in her; he only lit up when she looked at him, and every chance given he went in for a hug or kiss. He wants to use her, he thought. Just like me.
He found a quick bite at a local deli near the restaurant. After he ate, he took one more look at the happy couple and then moved onto his next location.
He drove a beat-up blue Cadillac that he’d bought from a friend. The engine sounded like it popped every time he turned it on, and smoke always sputtered from the exhaust pipe. The drive was slow, and he imagined it was like the universe in his mind, the turning planets and the alignment up above that was soon to come.
On the seat next to him was a newspaper from the night after his first kill. The paper was turned to the interior article on the crime scene. A single name was circled: Avery Black. She thinks she can stop me? he wondered. She’ll help me. She’ll be part of it.
He drove to a nice house in South Boston where the young girl rented out the basement apartment of an elderly couple. The apartment had two entrances: a private entrance was available in the backyard, but someone could also enter from the basement door.
As was his custom, he parked a few blocks away and walked back to his destination. He took in the lovely houses around him, the trees and night sky. No harm could come to him on this night or any other. Long ago, he had made a pact with the moon, and whenever that great celestial body moved through a particular astrological sign, that’s when he worked, and that’s when he was safest.
A dog barked in the neighboring house as he reached the back door to the young victim’s basement. The tools in his hands were easy to maneuver through the thin black gloves that he wore. He jimmied the lock open. He checked the latch to ensure it would work, slipped inside the darkened room, and closed the door behind him.
At approximately eleven thirty, he heard laughter from outside.
The girl appeared in the door’s window. She kissed the boy. He pulled her close and wanted more. She turned away. “Not tonight,” she said. “I had a great time. Call me?” He swore he would call. She kissed him again and turned into the apartment.
The light switch wouldn’t work.
“Everything all right?” he called.
“Yeah, just the lights,” she said. “I’m sure it’s an easy fix. See you later.”
She closed the door behind her.
And as she groped for the electricity box, he stood up from his chair.
He walked toward her.
And he reached out.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The next morning, Avery awoke with a feeling of anxiety, stress, and loneliness. Everything in her life seemed like it was a mess. Rose refused to answer her calls, Ramirez barely talked to her after the animal-sacrifice affair, she had no more leads, and worst of all, it was an official work day, which meant she had to head to the office.
She’d only had one drink the night before, and she’d gone to bed relatively early, but Avery felt like she was hungover. A pair of sunglasses hid her bloodshot eyes. She pulled a black blazer over a blue shirt.
The person that stared back at her in the mirror, despite the glamorous makeover, appeared just as tired and depressed.
Great, Avery thought. The perfect start to the day.
The A1 was bustling with action that morning, a spill-over from the night before: rowdy college kids and strippers.
“Hey look,” a cop joked. “It’s Avery Black, movie star.”
Avery waved and took off the shades.
On the second floor of the department, people were already deep in whatever case they were on. Cops yelled into phones and poured over case files.
“Black! Get in here. Now!” she heard.
O’Malley waved her into his office. At the same time, Connelly made an exit and gave Avery a look that was both apologetic and curious.
What’s wrong with that guy? she wondered.
“What’s up, boss?” she said.
“Connelly’s your boss,” O’Malley pointed out. “I’m the captain. Get it straight.”
“Ouch,” she whispered.
“Yeah, ouch,” he echoed. “That’s exactly how I feel right now. Sit down.”
O’Malley needed a new dye job; the gray was starting to show at his roots. He wore a red plaid shirt that seemed more suited to a lumberjack. It was very out of character; he usually wore suits to work.
“Nice shirt,” Avery said.
He settled into his desk, hands steepled, and leaned forward.
“What is it with you, Black? I can’t figure you out. One minute, I think you’re a genius. The next minute? I think you’re an idiot. Which one is it?”
“My ex-husband would tell you I’m a little of both.”
He sighed.
“Well, we’ve got a lot to discuss. First off, we’ve got a new letter. This one was mailed directly to you.”
“To me?”
“Came in late last night. Was put on a police cruiser window under the wipers. Had your name on the envelope: To Avery Black. Cop opens it up, sees a bunch of gibberish but knows it might be important so he sends it around. We got it at about six. So did the local papers. This is a copy. Forensics still has the original. So far, nothing.”
Avery picked up the copied sheet of paper. It was handwritten in the same scratchy penmanship as the last.
Avery Black.
Sadly, I have no use for you.
What a powerful planet you’d make.
I don’t like being tracked.
Want to find me?
Sun: Sagittarius: fifteen degrees fifty-nine
Moon: Scorpio: seventeen degrees twenty-seven
Ascendant Libra: sixteen degrees fifty-nine
“What does it mean?” Avery said.
“The paper says it’s astrology,” O’Malley replied and handed her the morning edition.
Sure enough, a blown-up portion of the letter was once again on the front page, along with a picture of Avery from her rookie days. The title read: Astrological Killer Issues a Warning. The article inside went on to discuss how the sun was the major astrological sign which indicated someone’s birth, while the moon and the ascendant were two planets that also had major effects on that birth. But without further information, the paper said the coordinates were practically useless.
“Why would the killer give us useless information?” Avery asked. “I’ve been reading about natal charts. They show where all the planets are located when we’re born. You just need a birthdate, time, and place of birth.”
“We know all that,” O’Malley said. “Thompson said these coordinates happen a lot, so if you put them in a chart they would just give you a lot of different times and dates. You need everything else to make an accurate prediction—where all the planets were. Yeah, I know.” He nodded. “Who knew Thompson was an astrology nut?”
Avery scoured the letter.
“It has to mean something,” she said.
“We also identified that second body,” O’Malley added. “Connelly and Jones were handling it, but now they’re pretty sure it might be yours. She was an astronomy professor at the Observatory. Retired about five years ago.”
Avery’s heart quickened.
“We were just at the Observatory,” Avery said.
“I know. This might be your lead. Thompson has been on the phone all morning with the university. He’s trying to find out every student that went through her doors in the last ten years. Might take a while, but that’s all he’s doing.”
“Why Thompson?”
“Ramirez is no longer your partner.”
“What?”
Although she knew Ramirez want
ed to take a break from their partnership, after the animal-sacrifice debacle the night before, she assumed he’d gotten over it.
“That can’t be a shock,” O’Malley delicately whispered. “He said he was going to talk to you about it, right?”
“He did.”
“Well?”
“I just—I didn’t think he’d actually go through with it.”
“You can’t play with people like that, Avery. Ramirez is a very delicate guy. He fell for you, hard from what I can see. You can’t give and then take, give and then take,” he said with an uneven balance of his open palms, “especially when you work with someone. Don’t shit where you eat, right? You’ve never heard that expression?”
“I’ve heard it,” she said.
“Well, you should start abiding by it. Like it’s law.”
“Thompson?” she asked.
“You two worked well together on the Peet case, no? You blew him off in the end, sure, but you won’t do that again, right?” he asked with a very intense gaze. “Besides, he’s not on anything right now. Finley will partner with Ramirez to finish your backload while you focus on this case exclusively. The clock is ticking, Avery. The mayor called me yesterday. Wanted an update. What am I going to tell him?”
Avery was having a hard time absorbing what she’d already heard. Ramirez had pulled the trigger. He was out. I must have hurt him bad, she realized. How am I going to make this up to him? Other thoughts invaded her mind: The second victim was an astrology professor.
“Her birthday,” Avery said.
“Huh?”
She looked up.
“The second victim. What was her birthday?”
“Why?”
“What was it?”
O’Malley flipped through a file on his desk.
“Her name was Catherine Williams. Born September fifteenth.”
September fifteenth, she thought. That has to be Aquarius. It has to be. Water. She was found near water. Avery plugged the date into her phone and asked for the corresponding zodiac sign. Her body deflated at the answer: Virgo. Virgo? she fought. The only two pictures of Virgos she’d seen had women dancing or with flowers in their hair. What am I missing?
“What are you doing over there?” O’Malley said.
“Nothing, sorry.”
“Here’s the file on Williams,” he said and handed it over. “Connelly and Finley were at her apartment this morning. Very similar to the first victim. Cameras disabled. No sign of forced entry into the apartment, so he either knew her or knew her schedule. Nothing missing from what they could tell, not even a rug. Phone and email don’t show any signs to a possible abduction or kill. How the hell is this guy getting those bodies out of the apartment without a single person seeing them?” he wondered.
“Garbage bags,” Avery said.
“What?”
Her mind was working too fast to stop.
“We should also have Thompson compile a list of all the people employed by Venemeer’s shop,” Avery said, “or the occult bookstore she worked at before branching off on her own. That might help pinpoint a name.”
“Good. Tell him on the way out. What do you mean by garbage bags?”
Avery shook her head.
“Something I learned as a rookie. Best way to get a body around unnoticed is to pretend you’re someone that supposed to handle large objects, like a sanitation worker or a mover. He took the first victim out in a rug, right? And no one seemed to think about it twice. He might have been wearing a disguise for the second victim too. Did they ask any witnesses about that? A large worker moving heavy items?”
“Find out.”
Avery stood to leave.
“Sit down,” O’Malley said.
She sat down.
“One more thing,” he mumbled. “And you’re not going to like it.”
“I don’t like any of this,” she shot back.
“You need to see a psychologist. Court ordered. You start today.”
“What? Why?”
A sad look was in his eyes.
“Really? You don’t know?”
“Is this about Randall?” she fought. “OK, sure. I went to see him again. So what? He helped me. He gave me the astrology lead.”
“Randall? I don’t know anything about that. Listen, you want to keep that psycho in your life, that’s your call. You know what I do care about? People calling this department and demanding your resignation. That’s right,” he said, “your resignation. Do these names sound familiar?” He picked up a piece of paper on his desk. “Rick Bergen?”
“I just asked him a few questions. Is it my fault that he sweats a lot?”
“Harold Bowler?”
Avery raised her brows.
“Now that guy is crazy,” she noted. “Have you seen his rap sheet? He was in the middle of an animal sacrifice!”
“I don’t care if he was in the middle of a mass murder! You broke into his house—”
“That window was busted!”
He waved her lies away.
“You broke into his house with no warrant and no probable cause. You can’t just go around and do whatever you please, Avery. You give this department a bad name, and word spreads and it all comes down to me. You’ve got no leads on this case, you’ve been wasting my time, you’ve been getting angry, and you’re taking your anger out on innocent people. That’s unacceptable, and that’s why you’re going to see a shrink.”
“Please don’t make me see a shrink.”
“It’s either that, or you’re off the case. What do you want?”
Without a word, Avery sat back and crossed her arms.
“That’s what I was hoping you would say.” He nodded. “You’ll see Sloane Miller, our resident psychologist. She’s got an office downstairs. Maybe you’ve seen her before?”
“No,” she said.
“You’ve got the file. Thompson is already working hard. Give him the update about the bookshops. The second body is with the coroner if you want to see that for yourself. That letter was sent to everybody so you might want to check other papers and the Internet. Maybe they know something we don’t.”
He leaned forward.
“Tread lightly, Avery. You’re on thin ice right now.”
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
The office of Sloane Miller was tucked away down a long hallway on the first floor. Avery knocked and instantly prepared to leave when someone called out: “Hold on a sec!”
Shrinks were nothing new to Avery. She consulted a revolving door of psychologists and therapists and analysts over the years: first after her father was sent to prison, then during the worst years of her life when she was forced to leave Seymour & Finch. Some of their wordage was still in her mind. “You have to open up, Avery.” “Relax a little. Have you ever been on a vacation?” “What makes you happy? Really happy?”
I am not going to see a shrink, she thought.
The door opened to reveal a small room with only enough space for two or three people. Sloane had a desk and a chair. There was one extra chair and a long couch on the wall closest to Avery.
Sloane’s age was hard to guess. Late thirties? Avery wondered. Early forties? The psychologist had a warm, loving glow about her: bobbed brown hair, blue eyes, and wearing a nice dress with stockings.
“Hi there,” she said with a smile.
Avery mentally groaned and turned around.
“Oh, please don’t go,” Sloane called. “I do that sometimes. Mothering. My tone is very mothering, isn’t it? My friends say it’s because I don’t have any children of my own. Sometimes I have to remember that. I apologize.”
Against the door frame, Avery leaned into the office with half her body in the hall.
“You’re Avery Black, aren’t you?” Sloane said.
Avery nodded.
“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Sloane said. “You’ve been in the papers so much lately I feel like I know you. Well, the part of you the papers write about,” she corr
ected with a knowing grin. A hand tapped on the couch. “Would you like to sit down? I have a half hour free.”
Uncomfortable to the tenth degree but lulled into the office by Sloan’s gentle manner, Avery rolled into the room and plopped down on the couch.
“Your body language tells me you really don’t want to be here,” Sloane said. “I’ll try to make this as painless as possible,” she whispered.
Her words and tone reminded Avery of a wise old lady that had accrued a lifetime of experience, so it was a surprise to constantly view her and see a perky young woman.
“Let’s see here,” Sloane said and faced her desk. “Avery Black. They got a court order to see me. That’s impressive.”
“What does that mean?”
“Oh, it just means someone wants to cover their butts,” she said. “Usually there’s been a complaint about an officer, and the department has a court-issued session or two to show that they’re complying, in case that same person calls again. Is that what happened?” Sloane asked and turned around. “Did someone complain about you?”
“Yeah,” Avery said. “Multiple people.”
“Were their reasons valid?” she asked.
“Maybe,” Avery thought. “Sometimes I get so involved in a case that I lose perspective. Everyone starts to look like a criminal.”
“That makes a lot of sense,” Sloane agreed. “I treat a lot of police officers and I can tell you this is a common issue. You never know who’s holding a gun, or who could be a killer in a room of hundreds. People are always quick to talk about police brutality or racism, but I’ve learned firsthand what you go through.”
Avery was waiting for the ax to fall. For the big questions to come. For the accusations to fly. She wasn’t prepared for such a normal, everyday discussion.
“You’re not like other shrinks I’ve seen,” she said.
“Have you seen many?”
“A few.”
