by Glenn Porzig
She had noticed him immediately, she imagined that most of the other girls at the party had as well. He pulled up in an expensive sports car, wearing trendy clothes, his hair perfectly styled. And his smile. Was he smiling at her? He must have seen her staring at him… and he smiled at her. At first she was mortified, but then it sank in. He was smiling… at her!
The handsome young man approached her from across the crowd. He didn't hesitate. He had confidence. She found that attractive. Could this night get any better?
"Hi, I'm Thomas, but you can call me Tom."
She averted her eyes for a moment, her bashfulness taking over, but then she smiled up at him, "I'm Nancy."
"A pleasure to meet you, Nancy," he said as he took her hand, bowed and kissed it. It was like something out of an old romance movie.
"Well, Nancy, I couldn't help but notice you staring at me…"
Oh, no! What could she say now? "I, uh—I thought that maybe I knew you—when you first pulled up. I must have been mistaken. I'm sorry…"
"Nothing to be sorry about. Maybe you recognized me from campus, I just graduated a couple years ago. It doesn't matter… it just gave me an excuse to come introduce myself." Thomas smiled.
His smile reminded her of a young Tom Cruise. A hint of mischievousness to it. It was too good to be true… but she wanted to believe. Like most girls she'd grown up on a steady diet of fairy tales and romance novels. She knew it just set her up for disappointment, filling her head with unrealistic expectations, but could this be her Prince Charming come to sweep her off her feet?
He left and brought her back a drink. They stood together and made small talk, enjoying the night air and the conversation. Then he noticed something in the distance. She could tell he was no longer focused on her, his attention was divided.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Ever since I got here I've noticed that old car sitting across the street. I think… I think he's been watching us. You don't have a jealous boyfriend I need to be worried about, do you?"
"Oh, don't be silly. It's probably nothing. You certainly don't have to worry about any other boy stealing me away from you," she laughed.
"I'm glad to hear that," he smiled and took her hand, looking in her eyes. "You can't be too careful, a beautiful girl like you… and that killer going around snatching up pretty coeds."
"The Heartbreaker? Those poor girls… and their families… I feel so bad for them."
"I just don't feel comfortable with the way that guys been watching us… watching you. I'll be back, I'm going to do something about it…" He started to walk towards the El Camino parked across the way, but she gripped his hand and tugged him to stop.
"Please don't start any trouble over me, I don't want you to get hurt."
'Fine. I have an idea. Don't worry." His hand slipped from hers and he approached two big jocks who were nearby, talking and drinking beer from red plastic cups.
"Whatta you want?" asked one of the brutes.
"Look, my girl over there is getting creeped out. That guy in the old car has been following her around all day. Think you could distract him while we slip away?"
"What's in it for us?" asked the other jock.
"Well, in addition to helping a damsel in distress…" he pulled out his wallet. "There's a twenty in it for each of you… that should help with your weekend beer fund."
"Whatta ya want us to do?"
"When the girl and I start to leave, just get between us and him so he can't see where we're going. Slow him down if you have to."
"You want us to rough him up?"
"Whatever you feel like… just make sure he doesn't follow us, okay?"
"Sure thing," said one of the jocks as he grabbed the pair of twenties from him and handed one of them to his friend.
Thomas returned to Nancy who had a concerned look on her face. "It's going to be okay, those muscle-necks are going to distract him while we get out of here," he said. He smiled and took her hand.
She wasn't really ready to leave with a boy she just met, but she had to admit all the attention was exciting. Swept up in the moment she followed him to his fancy car. This was turning out to be the most exciting night of her life.
***
Alexander Drake was staking out a sorority party on the local campus. The weekend was finally here, but no rest and relaxation for him. Days had passed and no new leads.
He figured it was time for another victim to be selected and this was likely where it would happen. If he was right, and victims were being sacrificed every two weeks, then he only had a week before another innocent girl lost her life at the hands of a maniac.
The killer seemed to pick his victims early and hold them captive for days before sacrificing them. Drake couldn't be sure why. He just knew he didn't want it to happen again.
The first two victims had been blond, so maybe this killer had a type. If he did it would be easier to narrow down the potential victims. But with only two victims, and no good eyewitnesses, anything would be conjecture at this point.
Drake sat in his car and watched all the partygoers from across the street. He could hear the loud music thumping and feel the bass even this far away. He knew he was too old to blend in, especially with his hair being white, and his distaste of the modern music made him feel that much older.
After a few hours a sports car pulled up and a young man got out. He was alone. Drake kept an eye on him as he mingled with the partyers that had spilled out onto the lawn. It wasn't long before the young man had met up with a young blond girl.
Drake watched them intently, looking for any sign that would give away the killer's identity. Apparently a little too intently—the young man spotted him staring and called over a couple of jocks.
After talking to the young man, the jocks turned and walked away. They stopped, and both of them crossed their arms and struck defiant poses. They were standing between Drake and his target, obscuring his view.
Not wanting to lose sight of his target, Drake stepped out of his car and started walking towards the party. The jocks advanced as well. They stopped and blocked his way before he could cross the sidewalk onto the property.
"Hey, old man," said the first jock.
"You been creepin' on that girl?" asked the second jock.
"Please, let me by. I don't want any trouble," said the detective.
"Old man here doesn't want any trouble," said the first jock as he took two fingers and thrust them hard into Drake's chest.
"Looks like you found it anyway," sneered the second jock as he puffed out his chest like an animal trying to make himself look bigger with a threat display.
Drake didn't like jocks. They always rubbed him the wrong way. He was often the target of bullies when growing up, but instead of living in fear it had helped him grow stronger.
"I'm here on official business..." Drake reached for his badge, but before he could pull it out he was rushed and knocked to the ground. The wind was knocked out of him, he struggled to speak. The words came out raspy and sporadic. "You've just... assaulted a police officer... I'd suggest you step back before this... escalates."
"I'm sorry, officer," said the first jock as he offered Drake a hand up. Drake accepted his hand. Just as he was hauled up the jock sucker punched him in the solar plexus, once again knocking the wind out of him.
Drake staggered back slightly, doubled over and trying desperately to catch his breath. One hand was clutching his chest, the other he held out with an open palm toward the jocks. He was emphatically signaling them to wait.
He wheezed something under his breath. The jocks couldn't hear him well enough. He muttered it again. One of them approached him.
"What are you babbling about now old man? Speak up, we can't hear you!"
The detective whipped up with a powerful uppercut that sent the jock flying backwards. His friend stood there astonished as the big jock hit the ground unconscious.
"I said, 'Only a dumb jock would be stupid enough to
fall for this old trick', and I was right!" Drake rushed the second jock and slammed into him, sending him down hard as well. Drake was on top of him and softened up his face with a series of blows.
Drake stopped and looked around. A crowd had gathered. College kids, standing in shock at the violence happening before them. Drake gathered his wits and looked to the street in time to see the sports car peel off down the road.
He reached down and grabbed up the jock by his collar.
"Did you know that guy? Do you know him?" he spat as he pulled the jock's face closer to his.
"No, no… just some dude, slipped us each a $20 to get you off his back, said you'd been harassing the girl…"
"Dammit."
He stood up and let the boy's shirt slip from his fingers, the jock slumped back to the ground with a whimper.
He reached in his pocket and pulled out his badge with his bloody hand. The detective held his arm high and waved the badge around to make sure that everyone saw it before sliding it back into his pocket. He looked down at the bloody jocks sprawled out on the ground in front of him and shook his head.
"Somebody call these guys an ambulance."
***
An elderly couple sitting at a table look down at their bills then up at each other shaking their heads. A veteran struggles with his walker. A young ethnic man, his face smeared with grease looks up from the smoking hood of his rusty old car and throws his hands up in defeat. A mother at the grocery check out with a child in her cart opens up her purse to find she is out of money. Over the video an announcer says "We all know that times are tough and that everyone can use a helping hand. Jackson Baron understands your struggle. That's why Jackson Baron has come forward to stand up for your needs in these trying times. He will work with unions to bring jobs back, raise the minimum wage, cut down on corporate greed. Jackson Baron, you can count on him. Vote Jackson Baron for Governor."
An animated donkey in red, white, and blue struts to the center of the screen and then kicks up its back legs.
"Brought to you by Jackson Baron for the People."
The man himself, Jackson Baron, sat stone faced. His campaign manager fidgeted in nervous anticipation.
"Would you like to see it again?"
"No, once was quite enough."
"What did you think, sir?"
"Do you think it said my name enough?"
"I could certainly see if they could re-cut the audio and add it in more if you'd like." He was sweating now.
"I was being facetious, it sounds to me that they are saying my name too often."
"Sir, I assure you our focus groups have gone over this countless times. The idea is to brand you. To associate your name with positive changes that the voters hope to enjoy after you take office."
"Well, be sure to get this turd polished up before it debuts tonight. I'm only hours away from announcing my candidacy and everything has to go perfectly… or it's your head." Councilman Baron spun around in his wheelchair and rolled out of the conference room.
***
"With all of the bad press there's been about police brutality—and you just off of suspension for a shooting—what the Hell were you thinking?" Underwood's voice boomed across the precinct. All of the officers had turned to look, glad that they weren't the subject of the chief's wrath.
Detective Drake winced. He knew better than to make excuses—it only made matters worse. But he just couldn't help himself. He had to plead his side of the case.
"Chief, it was a misunderstanding."
"Sending two college kids to the hospital is a misunderstanding?"
"In all fairness, they did throw the first punch."
"You beat up a couple of kids, in front of a crowd of onlookers, sent them both to the hospital, and your excuse is 'They started it'?"
"Technically they were paid to assault a police officer, if that helps you put things into perspective…"
"The press is going to have a field day with this!"
"Considering the circumstances, I'm sure you can reign this in before it gets out of control…"
"Think of the lawsuits! You have any doubt that the kids and their parents will be filing lawsuits against the department?"
"Actually, I think the boys would be lucky if we didn't press charges against them. Assaulting a police officer, obstruction of justice… I could go on."
Underwood was fuming. He glared at Drake for a long moment and then his hand flashed out, his finger pointing at the exit.
"Just get out of here before I suspend you again. You're supposed to be making progress on the case, not headlines on the news!"
Drake took the opportunity to get out while he could. It was time to do the walk of shame out of the chief's office. As he left he looked down at the bandage across his knuckles and flexed his fingers into a fist. His hand throbbed from the pounding he had handed out earlier. He knew there was no point in arguing to have his side considered, not when the chief was in one of his moods. He would have to just suck it up and keep moving forward. He lifted his head and straightened his shoulders as he continued out of the station, the other officers watching him as he went.
***
"Natalie, thanks for meeting with me," said Detective Drake as he opened his coat and fumbled in his pocket searching for a pen.
Natalie Dixon was a light brown haired girl in her late twenties, she was attractive and dressed smart for her job as a paralegal. She reached down and pulled a pen from a cup of them on her desk and handed it to the detective.
"No problem, really—anything I can do to help. Please, have a seat."
It had only been a few weeks since her sister was abducted and murdered. She looked strong, but the detective could see the pain in her eyes.
"I'm sorry to bother you at work, I'll try to keep this as brief as possible." Drake sat down across from her and began to take notes.
"I'd appreciate that."
"I know this isn't easy... I just have a few questions about your sister, and the weeks leading up to her disappearance. "
"Look, I told the police I didn't know anything—I really don't think I'll be much help. I didn't even see her the night she went missing."
"It's alright—I'm new to the case, just going over everything again for myself. Okay?"
"Okay."
"Beth was your younger sister?"
"That's right. She's about... I mean she was, about three years younger than me."
"Looking back, had you noticed any recent changes in her behavior? Was there anyone new in her life? Was she hanging out with a different crowd?"
"Beth? No, she didn't really 'hang out' with any crowds. She was more of a loner, kept to herself—she was always reading."
"Reading? Did you notice anything different about the types of books she was reading? Anything strange that she wouldn't have read in the past?" Drake wrote down that Beth was an avid reader, then his pen hovered over the note pad waiting for the next clue.
"No, not really. Mainly she was studying, reading stuff for school. She took her education really seriously—never even made time for a boyfriend."
Drake's expression perked up. He had a hunch.
"No boyfriend? This may sound strange, but was Beth a virgin?"
***
"Drake, I've been looking for you," said Chief Underwood.
This is the last thing I need, thought the detective as he grabbed the fresh stack of reports from his desk.
"How can I help you this glorious morning?" asked Drake.
"You picked up any new leads?"
"I may be on to something. I'm thinking the girls may have both been virgins."
"Virgins? How would the killer have known that... how do you even know that? Never mind, I don't want to know."
"Is that all you needed, Chief?"
"I suppose you've heard about the spiritualist that's in town."
"You mean that Solomon Price guy?"
"That's the one. Well, he's volunteered to assist on the cas
e and I'm putting him with you."
"Now wait just one minute..."
"Before you give me any grief, you need to know this is coming from the top. The mayor's wife is a big fan of the guy..."
"You do know that 'fan' is short for 'fanatic', don't you?"
"I'm surprised to be getting so much resistance from you, Drake. You believe in all this woo-woo bullshit, don't you?"
"I don't believe in all of it. Besides, this Price guy was just debunked a few weeks ago in Vegas. Apparently he was researching people that purchased advanced tickets and somebody switched seats or something like that—threw off his whole shtick."
"He's helping on the case and that's final."
"You know high profile cases like this are already like a circus, do you really want to turn this department into a laughingstock?"
"Listen, you know the score. At this level it's all politics—and what the mayor's wife wants is what the mayor wants, and what he wants is what I want. What I want better damn well be what you want as well!"
"Point taken. Please note my reluctance for when this blows up in your face." Drake turned to walk out of the office and ran right into Solomon Price, nearly bowling him over.
Price took a step to steady himself and then melodramatically brushed himself off. He slicked his hair back into place and then offered his hand to Drake. The detective reluctantly shook it.
"Solomon Price. Glad to meet you, Detective."
***
"I appreciate you letting me ride with you, Detective." Solomon Price was wearing his biggest TV smile. He was laying on the charm, trying to win over the dour detective.
"You can thank Underwood—I prefer to work alone," said Drake without taking his eyes off the road. This was too important of a case to have to babysit someone that was obviously only in it for the glory. There were young women's lives at stake, and the clock was ticking.
"Classic car, you don't see these too often. Three-ninety-six?"
"No, it's the four-fifty-four."
Drake continued to drive in silence. Price's attempt at small talk had failed miserably. Apparently the detective was all business.
